


I'll Shower You With Roses

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Anxiety, Boys Kissing, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fade to Black, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, In Other Words I Threw Canon Out The Window, Kissing, Language of Flowers, M/M, Major Character Death happened pre-story, No Prophesy, Past Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 43,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After the worst day of his life, Prompto gets flowers... but not knowing who they're from sends him on a search for answers that gets him a little more than he's expecting.





	1. Prompto's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (With Flowers)

**Author's Note:**

> The plot is heavily-inspired by the 1996 movie Bed of Roses. (Can't really recommend the movie; it's... not that great. It has a wonderful soundtrack, though.)

In Prompto's mind, taking photos on assignment for a professional studio _should_ have been the job of his dreams.

It wasn’t _his_ fault that this assignment sent him to some Niff haters.

He'd have to figure out something to do for his black eye. (He was _ lucky _it was just a black eye.) At least the creep who’d done it was jailed for assault, but it didn’t make up for the fact that his boss invited him not to come back. Something about causing undue drama on a job. (Freaking at-will employment laws…) It was totally discrimination, but he wasn’t sure he had the will (or energy) to fight it.

The photography part of his job had been great. He wasn’t going to miss the boss, though; that lady was a piece of work.

He’d think about getting a new job later… right now he just wanted to get home.

He slumped into his car (not pretty, but he could afford it and it got him from place to place) and rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment… then he stuck his key in and turned the ignition. 

The car chugged, and sputtered. And didn’t start.

“Seriously?” he muttered. 

He couldn’t afford to have it towed; not without a job. Not without knowing when his next paycheck would be.

He sighed, yanked his key from the ignition and started the long walk.

It took him far too long. By the time he reached his neighborhood, the sun was touching the horizon, and it was nearly dinner time. He’d skipped lunch, thanks to the photo shoot fiasco and all the interviews and police reports. His stomach growled at him.

His apartment building was in sight and he was looking forward to a shower and some ibuprofen (and maybe some ice cream) when his phone rang. He slid his thumb across the screen and put it to his ear.

“H’lo?” he said. 

“Is this Mr. Argentum?” 

No, Mr. Argentum was his _ dad. _ “Yeah, speaking.” 

“Mr. Argentum, this is the Law Offices of Telum and Clypeum? We need to talk to you about your parents.”

* * *

A car accident, they said. Instantly fatal, they said. 

_ Three weeks ago, they said. _

He hadn’t had time to process it yet; he was still too stunned to even know how he felt. Orphaned again. They’d been… well, not always there, but they’d always made sure he had what he needed. And now they were… _ gone. _

He’d missed the funeral, even. It had been a couple weeks ago. Not that he could have gone, anyway… Altissia was pretty far, and more often than not, the ferry to get out there was shut down for one political reason or another.

The law office only really thought to call him because he was in the will. It was pretty clear; as the Argentums’ only heir, Prompto was in line to get everything. The executor of the estate was working out the details. Prompto hadn’t really understood any of it; he’d been too overwhelmed. He was sure they’d be contacting him again. 

Somehow he climbed up the stairs to his apartment building. Somehow he made it into his apartment. It was Wednesday, so he watered his plants. Then he needed to feed Jeffrey. 

Jeffrey was a crowntail betta splendens, a brilliant blue with red streaks -- and if any fish could have a personality, Jeffrey was it. Jeffrey had a lush, leafy aquatic plant to hide in, but whenever Prompto came in the room, Jeffrey would leave his hiding place to nose against the side of the bowl, flaring his fins. He'd been Prompto's trusty companion for nearly a year now. Even if Jeffrey wasn't much for conversation, Prompto liked having something to care for when he came home. Jeffrey had pride of place on a large bowl on a little table by the front window.

Prompto grabbed the fish food from by the sink. “Hey, Jeffrey,” he said, without his usual cheer. Not that Jeffrey would notice or care… he was a fish.

… Who was floating in the top of the bowl, motionless.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

The fish food container clattered to the tabletop and rolled, spilling out a neat arc of pellets, but Prompto didn’t notice; he laced his fingers into his hair and burst into tears.

* * *

When he finally stopped ugly-crying (in front of the window, no less; why’d he allow himself to do that) he found he didn’t have an appetite so he just went to bed. He let himself sleep in. (He didn’t have any choice; he didn’t think to set the alarm.) He didn’t have anything to do, since he was, like, fired. And he didn’t even need to feed Jeffrey, now… so it didn’t even make any sense to get up.

So he didn’t. 

Somewhere around 10 am his phone pinged with a text notification, but he ignored it successfully -- until a quick succession of pings announced a flood of other texts, and finally he picked it up.

**Noctis ** [9:58am]: hey, you didn’t send a photo of your sunrise run this morning. u ok?  
**Noctis ** [10:17am]: seriously getting worried here  
**Noctis ** [10:17am]: we still on for lunch today?  
**Noctis ** [10:17am]: prompto  
**Noctis ** [10:18am]: prompto  
**Noctis** [10:18am]: prompto  
**Noctis ** [10:18am]: prompto  
**N****octis ** [10:18am]: prompto  
**Noctis ** [10:19am]: prompto, answer your damn texts already  
**Noctis **[10:21am] if i don't hear from u in 5 more minutes i'm coming over there

Prompto groaned. No, he didn't want Noctis coming over here. He didn't want Noctis seeing him like this. He didn't want to have to explain everything. He didn't even want to think about it all; he'd just start crying again. His eyes were probably still puffy from last night.

… He’d have to explain everything to Noctis soon, though. It didn’t matter whether Prompto went to lunch or canceled; Noctis would know something was wrong. And as much as he wanted to hole up at home and feel sorry for himself, he knew it would be better to get out. 

He just… couldn’t muster the energy just yet.

He texted enough of something to keep Noct from running over and barging into his apartment. Then he set his phone alarm to give him enough time to get dressed before he went to meet Noct for lunch and curled back up around his pillow.

The doorbell rang. 

He wasn’t sure he heard it at first, but then it rang again. He groaned again, then rolled off the side of the bed, wrapped a blanket around himself, and went to answer the door.

He opened it to see a huge bouquet of flowers. With legs.

It took him a moment to notice the gloved hands clasped around the vase, and while he was still puzzling at that, a cultured voice said “I have a delivery for you.” 

Prompto frowned. “For… for _ me?” _

“Yes.” 

“For _ me _me?”

A pause. “You are the person who lives in Apartment 3D, correct?”

“... Yeah.”

“Then yes, it’s for you.”

Prompto blinked a couple times. 

The man behind the bouquet cleared his throat. “May I put it down somewhere for you? It’s quite heavy.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Prompto backed up. “Just… the counter, I guess?” 

And then there were flowers in his house, filling up his counter. Ferns and daisies and lilies and carnations and baby’s breath and great spears of gladioli and a bunch of other brilliant flowers in reds and yellows and pinks and shades of violet and his house was filled with more color in one place than he’d had in ages, even with Jeffrey. In fact, one of the carnations was a violet tipped with red that reminded him of Jeffrey, and no, he wasn’t going to cry in front of this stranger who brought these gorgeous flowers into his house. 

He rubbed at his eyes. 

“Could you sign here, please?” the delivery man said, and Prompto had to focus on the clipboard. He took the pen the man offered and signed his name after the X the man pointed at. “Have a nice day,” the man said, and started for the door.

“But--” Prompto started, and the man hesitated mid stride. 

Prompto tilted his head at the flowers, then looked at the delivery man for reals for the first time. Tall. Hair gelled and spiked. Glasses. Completely put together, in his striped, collared shirt and suspenders, and sleek biker’s gloves. The scar over his left eye did nothing to ruin his amazing chiseled features. Prompto didn’t want to think about what he looked like, freshly out of bed. But that didn’t really matter right now. “Who’s sending me flowers?”

The delivery man hesitated. “They wished to remain anonymous.”

“But… why?” And now Prompto was irritated. Who would be sending him flowers? It wasn’t like he didn’t need them after his day yesterday, and Astrals knew getting flowers didn’t actually fix any of that, but -- “Who’d want to do that?”

The delivery man gave him a soft smile. “Probably someone who wished you to have a good day,” he said. “Do enjoy them.” Then he left, and the door closed behind him with a solid click.


	2. Hunting Down "Anonymous"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is in no mood for mysteries, and decides to get down to the bottom of it.

Prompto stared at the flowers for a long time, utterly gobsmacked. Who would send him flowers? He hadn’t even told anyone about his day yesterday; no one knew about his parents except the law office. (They wouldn’t send flowers, would they?) And why would someone want to send flowers anonymously? Didn’t they know it would drive a person crazy, trying to figure out who’d done it? 

… They sure were pretty. 

Deciding he’d exhausted all options that he could without investigating further, Prompto finally sighed and looked through the flowers for some kind of card or anything at all to tell him who might have decided to send him flowers. 

There wasn’t one. He only found a little tag, tied to the vase by a ribbon through a little punched hole. It read “Scientia Floral” and had an address. 

Well, that at least was something. Prompto untied the ribbon and slid the card off. He peered at it, but it wasn’t any more enlightening. Scientia Floral… he’d seen it, but had never gone in. He’d never thought to give anyone flowers. Noct certainly never needed them. 

… Noct. 

Maybe it was  _ Noct. _

Nah, Noct wouldn’t do something like that… He was a good friend, but it wouldn’t be on his radar. He didn’t know about Prompto’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day yet (and wouldn’t, if Prompto could get away with it) and he wouldn’t just  _ randomly _ get his friend flowers for no good reason.

Still…

Prompto hurriedly got dressed, and checked the time. He wasn’t meeting Noct for another thirty minutes, but he couldn’t stay here any longer, staring at his empty fish bowl or the towering bouquet of flowers.

Their favorite ramen shop was a bit of a walk, and usually Prompto liked it. But today… today, he was thinking about his car (that still needed fixing or at least a tow), his job (he needed a new one right away), his parents (wherever they were; who knew) and the giant mystery bouquet of flowers on his kitchen counter. He did  _ not _ enjoy his walk. Not one bit.

He got there before Noct did (as usual) and hung out on a bench just outside, puzzling. He puzzled so hard that he didn’t even notice Noct arrive until Noct dropped down next to him on the bench and nudged him. “Hey,” Noct said.

“Hey,” Prompto echoed.

Noct squinted at him. “What happened to your eye?" he asked.

Prompto shrugged. "Got punched, I guess…" 

Noct frowned. "Okay, we’re going in there, getting some ramen (on me, put your wallet away), and then you’re gonna spill.”

Noct tugged him inside and soon they sat at tables with deep, rich bowls of tonkotsu ramen in front of them, piled high with slices of pork belly, bean sprouts, chopped scallions and soft-boiled egg.

Noct carefully picked all the greens from his bowl with his chopsticks and stacked them atop Prompto’s, and then tucked in. Prompto just watched him do it. Usually he wouldn’t let Noct get away with something like that (expensive ramen NEEDS its veggies!) but this time he couldn’t be bothered to care. Instead, he ate all the greens Noct gave him, then stirred everything else together and started eating the rest.

They ate in silence for a while, but when their bowls were nearing half-empty, Noct leaned back and said, “Okay, talk. What happened?” 

“What  _ didn't _ happen?” Prompto moaned. He didn’t say anything more for a moment, and then, quietly, “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.” 

“That bad, huh?”

Prompto nodded. He couldn’t do anything else. He didn’t think he’d  _ ever _ had as bad a day as yesterday in his life, and he was sure he wouldn’t again. He didn’t have any more parents to lose, after all. 

The black humor made him chuckle a little.

“What?” Noct said, with a puzzled chuckle of his own.

“If I told you what yesterday was like, you wouldn’t believe me,” Prompto said. “Did… did you send me flowers?”

“Flowers?” Noct said, with an incredulous grimace. “Who gave you flowers?” 

“That’s just it, I dunno. I mean, the guy who delivered them said whoever it was wanted to remain anonymous.” 

_ “What?”  _

“I know, right??” Prompto said. “Who just does that? I mean, I kind of needed them after my job and my car and Jeffrey and my… my parents and all that stuff, but--”

“Wait, what about your job? Your  _ parents?  _ What?”

Prompto snapped his mouth shut, but it was too late. Now Prompto had to actually say something. So he started telling Noct about his day, and before he was two sentences in, tears were rolling down his cheeks again. Noct’s eyes grew wider and wider and wider. His jaw dropped at Jeffrey.

“And then this tall, impossibly handsome guy delivers flowers to my door like someone just  _ knew _ that I needed flowers when I hadn’t told anybody about anything…” 

“Wait, back up,” Noct said, waving a hand. “Lemme get this straight… You lost your job…?”

Prompto nodded.

“And your car broke down?” 

Prompto nodded and sniffed.

“And… your parents… I’m so sorry, Prompto.” 

Prompto shrugged. “It’s… not like I’d talked to them for a few months,” he muttered. “I mean, we were never close, really…”

“Still… that just sucks.”

Prompto couldn’t deny it. His whole life sucked right now. The only bright spot was that impossible bouquet of flowers sitting on his counter.

Mocking him.

“I just… can’t imagine who would have given me flowers. You’re the first person I’ve even talked to about… about  _ yesterday.”  _

“Well, there’s at least one person who knows,” Noct said around a mouthful of noodles.

Prompto peered at him. 

“The delivery guy,” Noct said, and tipped his bowl up to slurp his broth.

* * *

Noct was right of course, but the last thing Prompto really wanted to do was corner  _ that  _ guy, especially after he’d already refused to tell already. Still, the whole thing niggled at him for the rest of the day and for a lot of the night. He lay awake thinking about it until it was time to get up for his traditional morning run. He should have been exhausted, but he was tired of just laying there, so he went. 

He was still thinking about it when he snapped a photo of the sunrise and texted it to Noct. He was  _ still _ thinking about it over his breakfast of cold cereal. At last, since he didn’t have anything better to do that day, he picked up the card that came with the ridiculous flowers, and made his way to the flower shop.

It was in an old brick building (probably from a hundred years ago; brick facade, Neo-Classical portico, fake columns and everything) with a storefront in the bottom and rooms above that were supposed to be living spaces.

The design of the shop’s signage was tasteful and stylish in a timeless way, and Prompto was impressed at their design sense. The front window was awash in potted plants, flowering and non, of every variety. He only recognized the peace lilies and the delicate fuzzy-leafed Galahdian violets, but everything was gorgeously cared for, planted in ceramic pots.

The shop wasn’t open yet, so Prompto hung out at the cafe across the street. He even ordered a fancy coffee heavy on the cream and hazelnut syrup. (He figured he could enjoy one while he still had a little money to afford it.) He was only half-way through it when he spied the delivery man. Tall, hair spiked back, smartly dressed… and holding the keys that opened the front door. 

Why would a delivery man have the store keys?

Prompto puzzled, but didn’t follow him right away. Instead, he finished his coffee and some King’s Knight (alone, since it was too early for Noctis to be up), and then watched as some other employee turned the “Closed” sign around to “Open”. 

Prompto didn’t want to appear desperate, so he played a couple more levels, then snapped a couple phone pics of the storefront in the morning sunlight (it was honestly gorgeous). Once he decided enough time had passed, he headed across the street. 

A tiny bell announced his entrance with a bright chime. The shop smelled like green things and loam. A refrigerated case near the front counter displayed several vases of cut flowers. Prompto found himself staring around the place with wide eyes. 

Someone cleared their throat. “Can I help you?” said a cheerful feminine voice. 

Prompto jumped and blinked at the girl who beamed at him from behind the counter. 

She was young, tiny, and perky, dressed in what he’d call “hip cute” -- a sleeveless black hoodie trimmed in red, and a short, pleated skirt. Her name tag, emblazoned with the Scientia Floral logo on one side, read “IRIS”. Fitting… a floral name for a girl working in a flower shop. She smiled warmly at him.

“Ahh…” Prompto said. “This might sound like a crazy question, but…”

“No question’s crazy,” she countered. “You wouldn’t believe some of the doozies I get.”

Prompto gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Well, ah… someone sent me flowers. From here. But they didn’t leave a name, so… I don’t know who to thank.”

“Oh!” Iris’s face brightened. “I think I saw Iggy putting that one together!”

“... Iggy?” 

“Yeah!” she said. “He could probably tell you more about it.”

“Ah… sure.” 

Iris turned and cupped a hand to her mouth. “Hey, Iggy?” Iris called. “You’ve got a visitor!”

“A visitor?” drifted a voice from the back room.

A familiar voice with a cultured accent… The delivery guy.

Steps approached from a back room, and then he was there, framed in the doorway… tall, put-together, hair spiked back, glasses sharp-looking, holding a stack of what looked like order forms… and he paused there for a moment in surprise, staring at Prompto. And now Prompto could see that the eye surrounded by scarring was a cloudy grey, but his other eye was a perfect, piercing green. Prompto's belly did a little swoop.

‘Iggy’ approached the counter. “How can I help you?” he said, looking slightly worried. “Is everything… satisfactory?”

Under his sharp gaze, Prompto wilted a little. “Ahh… yeah, but...” he said, and swallowed. This ‘Iggy’ had already refused to tell him who’d ordered the flowers  _ once. _ Prompto wasn’t convinced he could be persuasive enough to convince him to fess up. “Look, ah,” he said at last, “I know you said the person who got me flowers wants to be anonymous, but I… I mean, it’s kind of driving me nuts, not knowing.”

‘Iggy’ said nothing for a moment, then he turned to Iris and handed the stack of forms to her. “Would you mind filing these in the office?”

“Sure thing!” she said, and disappeared into the back with a wave and a wink.

Which left Prompto alone. With this remarkably handsome man, who just happened to deliver flowers to him. He couldn’t quite make his mouth form words… but thankfully he didn’t have to.

“Let me introduce myself,” ‘Iggy’ said, and extended a hand. “Ignis Scientia.”

Prompto took his hand and shook on reflex, but his mind was still processing Iggy’s name. “Scientia… as in Scientia Floral?”

“The same.”

The swooping feeling in Prompto's belly got worse. “Then… you’re the  _ boss,” _ he said, and laughed nervously. He really was wasting this man’s time...

“Well, my name is on the store,” Ignis said, “but most of the time Iris makes more decisions than I do.” He made a small, crooked smile.

Prompto took a deep breath and tried to remember the rest of his reasoning so he could put it into words. “So, ah,” he started, “I get if there’s some kind of confidentiality thing that--”

“I sent them.”

Prompto gaped for a moment. “W… what?” He searched Ignis’s face for some sign that he was pulling a fast one -- but he looked perfectly serious.

“I sent the flowers,” he said.

“You?”

“Yes.” Ignis looked down and shuffled his feet. “I… didn’t want to tell you, because… well.”

Prompto waited. Ignis didn’t say anything for some time. “Well?” Prompto said. Ignis still hesitated, and Prompto twitched with impatience. “Look, you can’t just leave me hanging.”

“Very well,” Ignis said. “Would you… like to go get coffee?”

Prompto cocked his head. “Coffee… you mean  _ now?” _

“It’s a fine morning, and coffee sounds pleasant.” 

“But… don’t you have to work?”

“It just so happens that I’m the boss,” Ignis said with a half-smile. “And it also turns out that Iris is quite capable.”

“... Okay then.”

And that was how Prompto found himself sitting across a small table from Ignis at that café across the street. 


	3. Special Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ignis explains by doing, and they both get down to work.

It was weird, being back in the coffee shop so soon.

Since he’d already had coffee, Prompto ordered a muffin -- streusel, covered with clumps of brown sugar. Ignis insisted on paying for it, despite Prompto’s weak protests (he might not have a job, but he wouldn’t have ordered anything if he’d thought Ignis would offer to pay). Ignis ordered a black coffee for himself.

Prompto was too embarrassed to speak, so he took a bite of his muffin. It was fluffy and soft and oh so tasty, but also crumbly. His first bite sent a shower of brown sugar all over the table in front of him and into his lap. He brushed at it self-consciously and tried not to think about Ignis across the table, sipping his coffee like a proper gentleman and judging Prompto’s bad manners and improper table habits.

Ignis broke their silence first. “So you didn’t give me  _ your  _ name,” he said with a small smile.

Prompto groaned inwardly.  _ Of course, _ because he was a complete social loon. “Oh yeah,” he said with a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that. It’s Prompto.” 

Ignis extended a hand across the table and Prompto shook it. Ignis’s hand was warm and dry, and his handshake firm. “Nice to meet you, Prompto,” Ignis said as he withdrew his hand again.

After a moment of silence, Prompto cleared his throat. “So, ah, you gonna tell me why you’d buy flowers for a complete stranger? And why you wouldn’t want to tell me about it?” 

Ignis tapped his fingers on the tabletop without answering for a moment. Then he took a deep breath. “Would you be willing to join me for some deliveries this morning?” he asked.

Prompto blinked. “Deliveries? You mean… flowers?” 

“Yes. I would like to show you something.”

“... Okay.” 

“Your eye…” Ignis said, softly. “I hope it’s not painful.”

Prompto ran a finger under his eye. “Not today. Not unless I poke it, anyway.”

“Oh, don’t do that.”

Prompto chuckled. “Yeah, I mean… who likes pain, anyway.”

Ignis took a long sip of his coffee, and Prompto wondered if it was to hide a smile. He finished his muffin as quickly as was polite, but it was super awkward. He had no idea what Ignis was thinking, but he knew for a fact he just couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound dumb. Once he was done with the muffin, he used a napkin to wipe the crumbs off the table into his hand so he could brush them into the trash, and then they both stood and headed out the door. They returned to the store, and Ignis invited him into the back where Iris cheerfully greeted them and didn’t seem at all surprised that Prompto was invading their “employee-only” space. 

Ignis started handing him full vases and instructed him on how to secure them in the back of the delivery van. After the first trip, Iris followed him with her own load.

“He roped you into helping, I guess?” she said as she helped him secure a particularly large arrangement. 

“Yeah, I guess… I mean, he asked, but.”

“He’s like that sometimes,” Iris said. “I think he just likes telling people what to do.”

“Heh heh,” Prompto laughed -- but his confusion didn’t wane, even once they got out on the road with Ignis behind the wheel. 

They made a half-dozen deliveries. Prompto didn’t really know the story behind any of the flowers, but Prompto could see, no matter what the customer’s face looked like as they opened the door -- neutral, cheerful, or openly weeping -- as soon as their eyes caught the flowers, they smiled. 

Ignis made no small talk as they worked. When he spoke, it was to give short instructions to Prompto. The last delivery was behind them and Ignis was leading the way back to the van when he finally broke his silence. “I may own the store,” he said, “but the deliveries are my favorite part.” 

“Why?” Prompto asked. 

Ignis slowed and pushed his glasses up his nose with his long fingers. He looked sidelong at Prompto. “Because it doesn’t matter what’s going on in their lives,” he said. “My customers are always happy to see me.” 

They arrived at the van, but Ignis made no move to open or even unlock it. He wasn’t exactly looking  _ at _ Prompto either; rather, his eyes seemed to search the distance for something to focus on. “I sent you the flowers,” Ignis said, “because I was walking down that street at the right time and I looked up and saw you in the window. You just looked so sad and lost. And I didn’t know you, but… I thought maybe I could help you feel a little better.” 

Prompto was confused. “You just… looked up into a stranger’s window and…”

Ignis nodded. “I know it sounds strange… I didn’t want to tell you it was me because I thought you’d think it was inappropriate, for a stranger to do that.”

“Well, you’re not  _ wrong… _ ” Prompto said with a shaky laugh. “Look, ah… Today was weird, but fun. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Ignis murmured. “I… hope I didn’t keep you from anything important.” 

“Nah,” Prompto said, with a dismissive wave. “It’s… not like I had anything better to do. I mean, I just lost my job, so…”

“Oh, goodness…” Ignis said, his face opening with shock. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah…” Prompto scratched at his shoulder. “I… should let you get back to the shop.”

“Could I drop you off anywhere?” Ignis asked. “It would be no trouble.”

“... Sure,” Prompto said.

Prompto had Ignis drop him off at home. (Not like the creepy watch-you-through-your-windows guy didn’t already know where he lived, ha ha.) Prompto waved as Ignis drove away. Then he took himself up to his apartment. 

He had calls to make, after all… Jobs to apply for, a resume to update, a dead car to figure out. And he spent the afternoon doing just that. 

* * *

The flowers lasted for a full week.

Prompto added some lemon-lime soda to the water, just like the instructions said. He didn’t know if it  _ really  _ extended the life of the flowers, but it just made him feel like he was taking proper care of them. And having them around made the days better. He looked at them for a long time after he emptied and cleaned Jeffrey’s bowl and put it in the back of his linen closet. He topped off the water while he convinced Noctis to lend him money to pay for his car’s tow and repair. (“I’ll just cover it,” Noctis said. “No need to pay me back.”) He traced the gladioli with his fingers while he talked for hours with the law firm about his parents’ will. He sat by them with his laptop while he revamped his portfolio website and looked for freelance jobs. 

When he had to throw them out at last, he gave them a quiet thank-you. As odd as it was to get flowers from a stranger, they’d been nice. They really had helped him feel better.

His morning runs took him past the flower shop now. It wasn’t a conscious decision. He didn’t think, anyway. His runs were well before business hours and he never saw anyone there, but every time Prompto passed it he thought of Ignis -- his first sight of him, a huge flower arrangement with legs. It never failed to make him chuckle, and that was worth a lot.

* * *

There was no reason for Prompto to go to a flower shop, so he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t expect to see Ignis ever again. 

But he did, not two weeks after his Terrible, Horrible Day.

His updated website and several strategic posts to Chocobook and Kwehter landed him a wedding client (they lost their photographer last-minute) that promised to pay a tidy sum for a last-minute booking. On the wedding day, Prompto put on his best suit, took extra time with his hair (he wanted to be professional and all), and made sure to get to the extensive private garden a good hour in advance, to survey the setup and make some location choices for portraits. He happened to arrive while the florals were still being set up. 

He caught sight of Iris first, prepping the tables for centerpieces. She wove between the tables, setting tall, slender vases amid a smattering of polished stones on each one. He stared at her for several heartbeats before it registered who she was and why she was probably there. Then for some reason he felt a stab of panic and thought now would be a good time to get out of sight.

He was too late. Iris placed the last vase and turned, and as soon as she caught sight of him, her face brightened. She waved. “Hey!” she said, and bounced over to him. “Prompto, right?”

“Hey, ah, Iris!” Prompto stammered. 

“What brings you here?” she asked. 

Prompto lifted the Lokton camera hanging from a strap looped around his torso and over his shoulder. “Taking pictures,” he said.

“Ooooh, you’re the  _ photographer!” _

“Yeah,” he laughed. 

“Hey, make sure you get some good pics of our arrangements in place. Iggy’ll pay you for them, I’m sure. He’s always wanting to build up his portfolio.” 

“Can do!” Prompto said. 

“Catch you around!” Iris said with a wave, and ran out the garden gates -- and that’s when Prompto noticed the Scientia Floral delivery van at the curb just outside. 

… 

Prompto wasn’t here to look around for Ignis; this wasn’t a social call. He was here to do a job. He turned on his heel and walked away, out into the open grass. He examined trees and pathways and shrubs, eyes on his camera, looking for the best angles. By the time he’d fully scouted the garden area (there were several prime spots that would be great locations to photograph the happy couple) he returned to the reception area to find most of the table centerpieces finished… and Ignis, still working on the last one.

His button-up showed off his broad shoulders, and his slacks did no disservice to his figure, either. A black apron tied at his waist emphasized his slim hips, as well. At his feet sat a crate full of several varieties of cut flowers and greenery, and every so often he’d lean down and grab one to thread into the arrangement. 

Prompto watched for several heartbeats before he realized he was staring. He turned away to check in with the hired wedding planner, and was lost in discussion with him for quite some time; when he turned back around, Ignis was nowhere to be seen. 

Just as well. This was a job.

Though now he just had to wait. Nearly everything was set up. The gazebo where the ceremony would be held was draped with garlands of hydrangeas. The chairs in front of it were starting to fill up as guests began to arrive. Prompto had a few minutes, so he set about doing what Iris had asked, and photographed the flower arrangements at all the tables.

They were all the same colors, but each arrangement was subtly different, had a distinct personality. Prompto carefully framed each one to bring out the best aspects of it. He was on the last one when he heard someone approaching. 

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” 

Prompto turned, camera still ready to snap a shot, and almost jumped when he saw Ignis there. A startled “Ah!” burst out of Prompto’s mouth. Then his face burned -- he hoped he wasn’t blushing too much, but he didn’t have much hope.

Ignis’s mouth quirked. “What are the chances that we’d be working the same wedding?” he said. 

“Heh heh,” Prompto managed, and Ignis smiled.

“Iris said she asked you to photograph the arrangements,” he said. “I would be ever so grateful to have copies.”

“Yeah, I’m totally glad to give you some!” 

“I appreciate it,” Ignis said. “Bring them by the shop and let me know how much I owe you for them.”

“Wouldn’t you like a quote first?” 

“I’ll pay whatever you think is fair,” Ignis said. “Bring them whenever you have them ready.” Then he smiled again. “Until then.”

“Yeah!” Prompto said, and then Ignis was gone. 

Which was totally appropriate… The florist at a wedding is one of the invisible parts, there to set things up and take things down, but not to be seen by the guests. Prompto had his own role to play… but he couldn’t deny, his mind wasn’t entirely on his job. He managed all right. Made it through the ceremony, guided the whole wedding party through the family portrait process, shot candids all through the dancing at the end… 

At the end of the day, he dragged himself through his front door and sagged into his comfy chair (still in his suit), and thumbed backwards through the pictures he’d taken. Everything had been gorgeous. The party had been lively. Both families had been cheerful and incredibly photogenic. (Even the weird uncle.) The ceremony had been absolutely lovely…

He stopped, suddenly, on a picture he didn’t realize he’d taken. Ignis, in button-up and slacks and apron, with a hand on one hip and a gentle smile on his face, and Prompto could still hear him saying “Well, this is a pleasant surprise…” The touch of motion blur gave the image a unique softness.

If he saved it to his laptop, no one would be the wiser. So he did.


	4. It's a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Noctis is actually a pretty awesome friend, and a lot more observant than Prompto is comfortable with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will come as I can get to them; RL is busy as sin right now! This particular chapter is shorter than I was aiming for, but it's a good breaking point before the next one.

“The delivery guy?” Noctis said over the phone.

“No, I told you, he  _ owns  _ the shop,” Prompto said.

“Well, yeah, but he’s the guy responsible for the mystery flowers, right? You ran into him at a wedding?” 

“Yeah.”

“And he…”

“Well, his assistant said I should snap some shots of their arrangements, so I… did?” 

“And he liked them?”

“I guess…”   


“Of course he liked them, because you’re brilliant.”

“Can’t be  _ that  _ brilliant if I can’t get any jobs, Noct.” 

“Honestly, Prompto, the people who don’t hire you are missing out. You’re seriously great.”

“Thanks, dude. You wouldn’t, like, have an in at your dad’s place so I could get some jobs with  _ him?”  _

“I wish. But he’s got Weskham.”

That’s right… Noct might be set up to inherit the Caelum Media Conglomerate, but he didn’t have any say in who his dad hired to do photography. Which was really okay; Prompto wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that kind of high-pressure job. He just wanted to make enough money to pay rent, honestly.

Besides… the Weskham Studio employed, like, 20 photographers, and with them on hand, the Caelums had no need for an upstart freelancer. 

_"Anyway,”_ Prompto said, not wanting to think about his lack of bookings or how much working for a major media company would stress him out, “in the morning I’m taking my flash drive over to the ChocoVS Drug to get some prints made and then I’m gonna run them past the flower shop around lunch time so I won’t be free until after that at least.”

There was silence on Noct’s end for a bit. “Okay, let’s meet for a burger around 5 then, and you can dish all the juicy details.” 

Prompto groaned. “It’s not a  _ date, _ Noct.”

“Yeah, but. The way you’re talking about this guy… You don’t. You know.  _ Like _ him, do you?”

And there it was. Noctis might look lazy and standoffish and self-absorbed, but he was actually incredibly observant and  _ why oh why _ was he using his Super-Elite Observation Powers  _ now?  _

“I mean,” Noct continued, “I never thought you were into  _ guys? _ Especially since, you know, Cindy.”

“Noct, you know Cindy’s a  _ goddess,”  _ Prompto said. 

Noctis chuckled. “So how does this flower delivery guy compare?”

There was no way Prompto was having this conversation right now. “Sorry! Gotta run, Noct, but burgers at five sounds great, I’ll see you then!”

“Prompto, wait--”

Prompto ended the call with a flick of his thumb. He thought he should probably feel bad, but he didn’t want to talk to Noctis about his  _ feelings -- _ because he wasn’t really sure what his feelings  _ were. _ Crushing on Cindy was  _ safe _ , because she was married to her work at the shop. The only things  _ she  _ had eyes for were wings and spoilers on classic cars.

Ignis was not  _ safe. _ Ignis was  _ perfect.  _ Ignis was completely unreachable. Ignis was likely to get him hurt -- and he’d had enough hurt in his life, he didn’t want to actively seek it out, thank you very much.

And he definitely didn't want to chat about  _ feelings _ with Noctis freaking Lucis Caelum. At least, not right now, when he totally didn't have any. None at all.

* * *

Not wanting to talk (or think) about his feelings didn’t mean that Prompto didn’t compile all the pictures of the wedding florals as fast as he possibly could, zoom to the drug store, and take the prints over to Scientia Floral as soon as he had them in his hands. There wasn’t any real reason, he told himself -- except that he was sure Ignis was the kind of guy who liked punctuality. Well, Prompto could be punctual.

Iris greeted him the moment he stepped through the flower shop door, and cheerfully invited him into the office in the back. 

Ignis was there, looking flawless as ever in a soft pink-and-grey plaid button-up and khakis. When Prompto entered, Ignis looked up in surprise and stood. “Prompto,” he said warmly. “I wasn’t expecting you this soon!” 

When Prompto remembered to breathe, he held up the stack of prints and gave Ignis a half-smile. “Just got the pics this morning,” he said, and he managed not to squeak. Ignis reached out for them and Prompto did his best to not react when their fingers brushed. Then Ignis was looking through the photos. Prompto couldn’t read his expression. He could only watch as Ignis flipped through, pausing to inspect each one in silence. 

When Ignis made it to the end of the stack he looked up and smiled. “These are all so well-framed,” he said. “You have an excellent eye.”

“Th--thanks,” Prompto said, and looked away. His face burned and he knew he was blushing.  _ Why was he blushing. _

“How much do I owe you?” Ignis asked.

“Ah, you don’t have to pay me,” Prompto said. “I was just there, you know, and I was already taking other pictures--”

“Nonsense,” Ignis interrupted. “Prints aren’t free. Let me give you fair compensation for them.” 

“... They were about five gil a print, I guess,” Prompto admitted. 

“Excellent.” Ignis thumbed through the prints again -- he was  _ counting them, _ Prompto realized -- and then pulled out his wallet and drew out a bill that so-much-more than covered the cost of the prints. Prompto opened his mouth to protest. “I insist,” Ignis said. “A thank-you for your time.”

Prompto stood with his mouth stupidly open for a moment before he snapped it closed. “Okay,” he said. Then added, in a moment of rare boldness that took him by surprise, “But only if you let me take you to coffee.” 

Ignis paused, a look of uncertainty crossed his face, and for a heartbeat Prompto wished he could grab all those words and stuff them right back into his mouth. But then Ignis's lips curled in a small smile. “That sounds delightful,” he said.

And Prompto quietly panicked.

* * *

Prompto led the way to the café across the street. This time,  _ he _ paid. They took a seat at a small table for two near the front, with the flower shop attractively framed in the adjacent window, bathed in the morning light. It was striking enough that Prompto pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, even with the glare and reflections on the pane of glass.

“May I?” Ignis asked, and held out a hand. Prompto let him take the phone, and Ignis peered at the image. “Just stunning,” he said, and reached across the table to hand the phone back. “You really do have a gift. May I have a copy of that one as well?”

“Sure!” Prompto said. “I could text it to you. Is that all right?” 

“Certainly,” Ignis said.

Prompto opened his message app and handed the phone back to Ignis to enter the number.  _ Omigosh, Ignis was giving him his number. _ Prompto quietly freaked out about  _ that _ while he took his phone back, attached the photo to the message and sent it. Ignis's phone pinged, and then he was looking at the photo again and Prompto had to look away. Then Ignis’s voice cut through his circular thoughts.

“Would it be all right if I licensed it for our advertisements?” Ignis asked.

Prompto could feel his face burning again. “I dunno if it's  _ that _ good,” he mumbled.

“You do yourself a disservice,” Ignis said kindly. 

Prompto warred with himself. He wouldn't deny, he could use the fee -- but he didn't want to charge Ignis. Not for a crappy snapshot from his camera phone. And not when Ignis had already paid him far more than the prints were worth.

“Actually,” Ignis continued, “Iris suggested -- and I think it's a fine idea -- that we hire you to join us on some of our engagements, just to document our arrangements.”

Prompto brightened. “You mean like a regular gig?”

“As regular as you would like it to be,” Ignis said, and there was a tentative quality to the asking -- like he was nervous about the answer. Why would  _ Ignis _ be nervous?

“I…” Prompto swallowed. “I’d love it!”

Ignis beamed. (Could Ignis beam?) “So glad to hear it,” he said. “Our next appointment is this coming Friday. Would you be free?” 

Heck yeah, Prompto was free. He’d like nothing better. He would have rearranged his schedule if he  _ wasn’t _ free. As it was… this past wedding gig was a fluke. All his other job inquiries were coming up crickets. He knew it would take time. And the idea of working with Ignis and Iris was… pleasant.

Then Ignis’s mouth did a little quirky thing that Prompto couldn’t quite interpret. Then Ignis glanced away. And was that a blush? “And perhaps…” Ignis started, and paused. “Perhaps we could go to dinner the night before? To discuss what I’m looking for in my portfolio.” 

Prompto couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing -- and maybe a little of that showed on his face. Ignis’s face started to fall, but he swallowed, and he carefully smoothed his expression so Prompto almost wasn’t sure he’d seen the hint of disappointment. Ignis cleared his throat. “If you’d rather not, that’s--”

“Oh, no!” Prompto cut in. “Yeah, dinner sounds… that sounds great!” He couldn’t help smiling.

Ignis responded with a tentative smile of his own. “It’s a date, then,” he said.

* * *

“It’s a date” echoed in Prompto's brain all the way to Kenny Crow’s that evening. Noctis was already waiting for him on the bench outside, leaning slightly away from the Kenny Crow statue casually lounging there like something out of a slasher horror pic.

And then Prompto cursed the way he couldn’t keep from telegraphing his feelings, because as soon as Noctis saw him, he smirked. “Food first, and then I get to grill you,” he said.

“About what?” Prompto said, trying to sound completely chill. “I mean, there’s nothing?” 

“Heh,” Noctis said. “Nice try.”

They went in, then, and ordering put off whatever chat Noctis wanted to have, but Prompto was sure it wouldn’t put it off forever. He just had to be ready. Yeah. Ready.

They got their burgers and fries and Noctis led him back to a booth in the corner, and they tucked in -- Noct to his fries (he liked eating them while they were still hot) and Prompto to his burger.

He was only one bite in when Noctis said, “So…?”

Prompto didn’t respond right away; he took another bite instead, and ignored Noct’s pointed stare. He took his time chewing and swallowing before he cleared his throat. “So what?” he said.

Noctis groaned. “Don’t give me  _ that,” _ he said. “You look like someone whacked you upside the head with a fish.”

“Do not!” 

Noctis raised an eyebrow at him.

Prompto chuckled nervously. “Okay, okay…” he said at last. “I think I might have a job. The florist guy invited me to go with them on their next gig to photo the arrangements for his portfolio.” 

Both of Noct’s brows shot up. “Really? That’s pretty cool.”

“Heh heh,” Prompto said. “Yeah, we’re gonna have a dinner meeting to talk about it. Like, what kind of photos he wants, that kind of junk.”

Prompto took another big bite of his burger to give him an excuse to ignore Noct’s pointed stare. “He invited you on a date,” Noctis said. 

_ ‘It’s a date,’ _ Ignis’s voice said in Prompto’s head. He shuddered. “It  _ can’t _ be,” he said. “I mean, it’s just a work meeting. And you don’t understand… Ignis is, like,  _ so _ put together. I’m… kinda ordinary. Like, as ordinary as ordinary can be. I’m definitely not his type.” 

“How do you know what his  _ type _ is? You hardly know him.” 

Prompto rolled his eyes. “If you saw him, you’d see what I mean,” he said. 

Noctis shrugged and popped his last three fries into his mouth. “Whatever you say, dude,” he said around his full mouth. “Just… enjoy it, all right?” 

“Enjoy what?” 

“Whatever comes,” Noctis said cryptically, unwrapping his burger. “You’ve been through a lot. You deserve good things.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, Prompto deserves all the good things. ^_^


	5. I Looked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is it a Work dinner or a Date dinner? Jeeze, Ignis, you gotta be clear with these things...

Thursday dawned pretty early. Prompto got up as usual, took his morning run (that totally coincidentally took him past the flower shop; it _ just happened to be _ the Best Route) and showered as soon as he got home. He went out again with his camera and took pictures of people walking their dogs. 

Ignis texted in the middle of the morning, and as soon as Prompto saw who it was from, he about swallowed his tongue. 

**Ignis** [10:36am]: Are you still willing to meet this evening to talk about tomorrow’s appointment?

Was Prompto willing. Well, yes. Yes, he was willing. It was a job. It meant money. It meant he could meet his rent. 

It also meant having dinner with _ Ignis… _ and honestly, Prompto wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He knew that _ part _ of him was over the moon; he knew that another part was nervous as hell. He thought maybe he should _ really _be feeling something pretty much exactly not either of those things. 

But he wasn’t going to say that to Ignis. Not a chance.

**Prompto** [10:37am]: Sure! Where should we meet?

Prompto was proud of that text; it had none of the shorthand or weird emojis he tended to use with Noctis. It looked pretty respectable.

**Ignis **[10:38am]: Let’s meet at the shop at five; I’ll take you somewhere nice from there

Somewhere nice? What exactly did that mean? Prompto dithered for awhile on whether “nice” meant “suit-and-tie” or just “collared-shirt”. He was pretty sure it wasn’t “sleeveless-denim-jacket-with-eclectic-and-sometimes-vulgar-patches”. 

**Prompto** [10:40am]: How nice is "nice"?

**Ignis** [10:42am]: Nothing terribly fancy, I promise. I’ll wear what I usually wear to the shop.

… Which, from Prompto’s observation, was usually button-ups and slacks. That was a lot more fancy than Prompto was accustomed to, but okay. 

**Prompto** [10:43am]: Sounds good! See you then!

**Ignis** [10:44am]: I look forward to it.

Prompto hurried back to his apartment and rifled through his closet. He had exactly one (1) white button-up and it was the one he usually wore with his suit coat to weddings. Too fancy. He had exactly one (1) polo-style collared shirt with a pocket, and it would probably do. 

...If it wasn’t bunched up in a pile at the back of his closet. 

Prompto pulled it out, gave it a sniff, and groaned. He wasn't wearing _ that _ to dinner with Ignis. It would ruin everyone's appetite.

Prompto despaired for a moment until he remembered that he’d borrowed something from Noct once for his BFA photography show opening when they’d graduated college last spring, and he still had it folded away, waiting to be returned. He pulled it out -- a silky black collared button-up with vertical grey pinstripes. Slim style, fitted… and would go just fine untucked over his black pair of jeans. That would be okay. And Noct wouldn’t mind. Much. (Prompto really needed to get that shirt back to him, but was glad now that he’d kept forgetting.)

With that settled, Prompto just… had to while away the hours until it was time to meet Ignis. 

Prompto hated waiting.

That said, between a session of King’s Knight with Noct and all the time he took fixing his hair up just so and making sure his outfit really wasn't going to be embarrassing, he managed to pass _ most _of the time. He still made it to the flower shop way early, and ended up loitering outside it LONG before he was supposed to be there. 

He tried not to notice Iris laughing at him through the front window. After he’d been hanging out in front of the shop for twenty minutes, she finally poked her head out.

“You don’t need to wait out there, silly!” she said. “Come in!” 

Prompto sheepishly followed her inside, and she led him back to Ignis’s empty office. 

“Iggy’s out on a delivery, but he should be back in just a few,” she said. “You’re welcome to the coffee machine if you want some!” Then she bounced back to the front counter.

There was indeed a teeny coffee machine on a table behind the desk -- the kind that made individual cups from little packets -- and a clean mug beside it. At least, it looked pretty clean. Prompto’d already had coffee this morning -- he could only handle one cup a day; any more than that made him jittery -- so instead he peered around the office to bide his time.

Ignis kept an immaculate office. 

Everything had a place. There were no stacks of files waiting, no stray paper clips or note pads… the pens and pencils were all corralled into a little cup. A perfect vase of carnations and baby’s breath graced one corner of the desk. If Prompto had any complaint, it was that the whole office was a little too… impersonal. In fact, the only thing that didn’t reinforce the sterile office atmosphere was a little framed snapshot by the computer monitor.

Prompto leaned down to look at it, too afraid to be caught moving things around. Ignis was in it -- younger, unscarred. And with him, a monster of a man, taller than Ignis by a good hand. Bronzed skin, dark mullet, amber-brown eyes, and a huge, cheerful smile. A feathery tattoo trailed down his arms from underneath the sleeves of a black leather jacket. And he had his left arm draped over Ignis’s shoulders. Both of them were smiling and waving to the camera. But the one detail that stood out the most to Prompto was Ignis’s left hand, raised to thread his fingers through his companion’s left hand.

They both wore wedding bands.

Ignis was married. Had been married? Prompto hoped it was the latter -- then felt like a monster for even wishing it.

He swallowed.

“Prompto?”

At the sound of his name, Prompto whirled around. Ignis stood framed in the doorway, looking as flawless as ever, for having had a full day’s work. Even the old wound on his face -- the darker skin surrounding his left eye, the small scar that interrupted the line his otherwise perfect lips -- enhanced rather than detracted. He wore a striking purple leopard print shirt with his black slacks today -- a bold choice, Prompto thought, but he made it look _ so good. _

Prompto was doomed.

“H… hey,” he said, shakily. 

Ignis hesitated in the doorway, looking at him. There seemed to be a small bloom of color on his cheeks. 

Prompto couldn’t quite interpret the look on his face, and hoped it wasn’t because Prompto was looking through his things. He self-consciously backed away from the desk. “Sorry,” he said. “Iris told me to wait for you here.”

“My apologies for making you wait,” Ignis said with a soft smile. “Are you ready to get something to eat?”

“Am I ever,” Prompto said, and forced a laugh. “Let’s go!”

“One moment,” Ignis said, and passed near enough that Prompto got a heady whiff of a fancy cologne. Ignis rummaged briefly through one of the desk drawers and pulled out a set of keys. “I’m parked in the rear,” he said as he straightened, “but it may be easier if you meet me out front. I’ll drive around and pick you up.”

“O… okay,” Prompto said.

Ignis headed out the shop’s back door, while Prompto walked alone to the vestibule. He had to remind himself to respond to Iris’s cheerful “Have fun!” as he went out the door… and then he was out front, and thinking a mile a minute. 

Ignis had a relationship. And the guy in that photo could _ pulverize _ Prompto. If _ that _ was Ignis’s taste in partners, there was no way Prompto would measure up. He was different in every way imaginable. He was pale and freckled, he was scrawny and leggy, he was tiny. That guy, whoever he was, utterly _ dwarfed _ Ignis… probably as much as Ignis dwarfed Prompto. But Prompto couldn’t remember seeing Ignis wearing a wedding band. Not that he’d actually _ looked -- _ he just suddenly couldn’t remember having seen one, and now he felt stupid for not checking before he’d up and _ caught feelings _ and omigosh Prompto had Feelings and _ what was he going to do now. _

Prompto chewed on his lower lip as he thought, and was so caught up in his head that he almost didn’t notice the grey sedan that pulled up to the curb. It didn’t help that the car was so _ quiet. _ Prompto blinked at it, stunned, when it came to a halt in front of him. It was nearly as fancy as Noct’s Audi. He wondered how Ignis had managed it with the income from a flower shop. 

Then Ignis was stepping out. He skirted around the hood and opened the passenger door, and gave Prompto that gentle smile again. “Ready?” he said.

Prompto subtly glanced at Ignis’s left hand (no ring) while he forced a smile. “Sure am! Ready for some grub!” He gingerly sat down in the front seat and Ignis just waited until he pulled his legs in to close the door for him. Then Prompto had to stop himself from stroking the leather seat. He eyed the computerized dash. This stupid-fancy car had _ all _the perks. 

But Prompto couldn’t drool over it for long; Ignis slid into the driver’s seat, and turned to him. “I managed to reserve us a table at Tonberry’s,” he said. “I hope that’s acceptable.”

Tonberry’s… For “nothing terribly fancy”, Tonberry’s was pretty exclusive. Not black-tie and not the MOST expensive place, but it was up there. “Wow, heh heh,” Prompto said, “I’ve… never been there.”

“Excellent,” Ignis replied, and turned the ignition. “Then I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

And they were off. 

Tonberry’s was the fanciest place Prompto had ever set foot in. He tried so hard not to gape like a rube but it was pretty much impossible. He was sure he caught Ignis smiling at him -- not a mocking smile, but Prompto wasn’t entirely sure ‘gentle amusement’ was right, either. He did his best to ignore it -- and to ignore the loop-de-loops of anxiety in his gut.

Prompto wanted to enjoy dinner. He wanted, so badly. Ignis had said it would be “his treat” -- and Prompto tried to ignore the fact that none of the entrees had a printed price. When he said something about it, Ignis had waved a hand. “Never you mind,” he said. “Order what most appeals to you.” But it all looked so expensive… and every kind gesture, every subtle glance that Ignis gave reminded Prompto of the photo on the desk at the flower shop, and he couldn’t help but think he was reading things wrong. This was all too perfect to be real.

Was he imagining the pale line circling Ignis’s finger -- sign that he _ had _ worn a ring, at length, but wasn’t now?

Then Ignis asked him about how he got into photography and that was that. Prompto started rambling (and maybe it was the nerves talking) and Ignis was such a great listener that he just kept asking questions that kept Prompto going -- and perhaps he should have felt embarrassed, but somehow Ignis didn’t make him feel embarrassed at all. _ He _ made _ himself _ feel embarrassed, in the moments when he had the presence of mind to recognize what he was doing.

When the waiter finally served dessert (Ignis chose a citrus chiffon cake and _ insisted _ that Prompto order _ something, _ so he caved and got a mango sorbet and it was absolutely _ divine) _ Prompto had to admit that this was feeling more and more like an actual date. Not once during the dinner did Ignis say _ anything _ about portfolios or work or the gig tomorrow; it was all small talk -- though he’d really talked more than Ignis had. 

Prompto looked down at his half-eaten sorbet. “Look, ah…” he said. “Thank you. For… for the flowers you gave me -- they really helped me feel better! And for giving me some work. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. And for dinner. This is just…” Prompto gestured to the room -- the low lights, the more-than-elegant fixtures and just… everything. “This is amazing.”

“It was my pleasure,” Ignis said, and took a small bite of cake. (Ignis made _eating_ look glamorous; it wasn't fair.)

“You really didn’t have to do this…” Prompto said. “I mean. We didn’t even talk about tomorrow’s gig.”

Ignis cleared his throat. “I did invite you on that pretext,” he said, “but… when it got down to it, I decided I would rather get to know you a little better than talk about work.” 

“Heh heh,” Prompto said. This wasn’t helping him, not one bit. “Okay. Then… tell me about yourself.”

“There’s really not much to tell,” Ignis said. 

“Sure there is. I mean, you run this flower shop, you drive a super-fancy car and can afford casual dinner at Tonberry’s…”

“Well, I’ll admit, I only come here on special occasions...” 

Special occasions, huh? “And I guess this qualifies?”

Ignis smiled. “I’d say so.” 

Prompto held his smile. “Why? I mean, I’m just some rando you happened to see through a window. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I would like to know more,” Ignis said.

Prompto stared at him.

“I apologize,” Ignis said. He stared intently at the fork in his hand. “It’s… been a long time since I’ve… I’m afraid I’m not very good at this.”

“What do you mean, ‘it’s been a long time’?”

Ignis hesitated. “The… relationship… thing.” 

Prompto froze. “Rela… you…? With _ me?” _ His face burned.

“If you’re amenable.” And Ignis gave him a small smile, tentative and hopeful. “I… hope I’m reading the signs right.”

If Prompto was amena-whatever-that-was. Was he? He stared at Ignis in confusion. “But… I thought…” He trailed off. 

Ignis’s smile faltered. “You thought…?” he prompted. 

“That… that guy in the picture on your desk.” 

Ignis stilled.

Prompto was sure he’d goofed. But he had to press on; he had to know. “Who is that?” he said. “I mean, you guys… looked pretty close.”

“That…” Ignis said, then swallowed. “That was Gladio. He was my… my husband.”

“Your _ husband.” _ Prompto wasn’t sure how to feel.

“He… We were…” Ignis’s mouth worked for a while, then he cleared his throat. He started poking at his cake with his fork. “There was an… an accident. I was driving. I… wasn’t paying as close attention as I should. We were… I mean, _ I _was… arguing. With him. I ran a light. We were hit broadside. It's how I..." he raised a hand and gestured at his scarred face. "Gladio didn’t… didn’t have a chance.” Ignis closed his eyes, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

Prompto grew very still, at a loss for words. He watched Ignis collect himself, replace his glasses carefully, and take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry to burden you with this--” 

“No, I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“It’s quite all right,” Ignis murmured. “You _ should _ know.” He looked up at the ceiling, blinking. Prompto pretended not to notice the wetness of his eyes. “Gladio… was amazing. For a long time, I couldn’t forgive myself. I blamed myself every day for losing him. I… pushed everyone away; I could only see my own misery.” He exhaled sharply and looked back down at his half-eaten cake. “Iris was a great support that whole time; she kept the shop going. She… never blamed me, even though she suffered just as much.” 

“Iris did?”

“She’s Gladio’s little sister,” Ignis said with a small smile. “She shares his passionate spirit, that’s certain.” 

Prompto shook his head. “I had no idea,” he said. “She’s so cheerful.”

“Of course. And I’m grateful every day that she puts up with me.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

Prompto’s mouth worked for a moment. “How… how long? Ago?”

“A year,” Ignis said. “It’s been nearly a year. I lost myself for most of it. I didn’t work for some time, but when I came back, I threw myself into it. It’s all I thought about. I made myself busy enough that I thought I could forget, but I never could. But I think I’ve found myself again.”

“What brought you back?” Prompto said. 

“I looked up,” Ignis said, and met Prompto’s eyes. Then he pushed the cake aside and took one of Prompto’s hands, ever so gently, in both of his. 

Prompto’s heartbeat thudded in his ears and for a moment he couldn’t speak -- couldn’t move. Then he made himself. “You… looked up. You saw me, crying, through the window…”

Ignis nodded. “And I thought, perhaps, if I could make someone else happy, I could help myself find my own happiness as well.” 

“You couldn’t possibly have thought--”

“What I thought was that you needed cheering up,” Ignis said. “I didn’t expect to ever see you again, after I delivered the flowers. But then I did. And then I hoped.”

A drip landed on the back of Prompto's free hand -- and that’s how he discovered he was crying. He wiped his wet cheeks -- but didn’t pull his other hand away. His skin tingled where Ignis's fingers held it.

Ignis drew Prompto’s hand to his lips to place a delicate kiss on his knuckles. Prompto held his breath. “If you would allow me,” Ignis said softly. 

And the first thing Prompto did was shake his head. "You couldn't possibly -- there's no way I could -- I'm --"

"You're delightful? Charming? A ray of pure sunshine?"

"I'm a mess," Prompto blurted out. "My life is a shambles. I have no idea what I'd do in a relationship. I… I'm not good enough for you." His voice hiccupped embarrassingly at the end. He sniffed noisily.

Ignis's eyes widened a little, and then he smiled again. "I’m sure that can’t be true,” he said. “Will you allow me to find out?" His thumb made a little circle on the back of Prompto's hand.

Prompto wanted. Oh, did he ever. If only he wasn't so certain that Ignis would just be disappointed. That it would all be over before it began. 

Maybe Ignis saw something in his face (because Prompto couldn't keep his stupid feelings off it, naturally) because his hand tightened on Prompto's, and he said, “Please allow me to decide for myself.”

The intensity of Ignis’s gaze broke down Prompto’s walls. He was lost in a sea of green -- and he found himself gently squeezing Ignis’s fingers in return. He managed a wet smile, and said, “Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! 
> 
> Okay, it's not the end at all. There is more. :) Be prepared for a couple of broken people to muddle their way through.


	6. Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Prompto has an inferiority complex, insecurities, and more than a little anxiety...

As Ignis drove him home, Prompto began to panic.

He had no clear idea what he’d just agreed to -- only that Ignis had held his hand while he wept, until the bill came and the tab was settled. Then Ignis had escorted Prompto back to the car, had opened the door for him, had smiled as Prompto settled himself inside… and now Ignis was driving him home. 

Gentle string music played on the radio, but Prompto barely heard it. He only heard the echo of Ignis’s voice in his head: “delightful”, “charming”, “ray of sunshine” -- and above them all, “I looked up”. Prompto wondered what Ignis had seen in the window that night -- if it was anything like what Prompto looked like now. A glance in the rear-view mirror showed him eyes red and puffy, cheeks still damp and salty from bawling his eyes out. (He couldn’t believe he was doing that in a  _ restaurant --  _ at  _ Tonberry’s, _ of all places.) He just hoped Ignis wasn’t going to be too embarrassed to be seen with him in public ever again.

Ignis didn’t say anything about that. In fact, he didn’t say anything  _ at all _ \-- but once he pulled onto the street and started for Prompto’s place, Ignis reached down for Prompto’s hand and let their clasped hands rest on the center console. Occasionally he would glance Prompto’s way with a look Prompto could only describe as  _ fond. _

Then they arrived at Prompto’s apartment building and he panicked  _ more. _ What did Ignis expect? Should Prompto invite him up? (And what would  _ inviting him up  _ entail? What if it was something Prompto wasn’t ready for??  _ Was _ Prompto really not ready for it, or was it just more nerves?) 

Ignis opened the passenger door for him and he stepped out and looked up at his apartment window instead of at Ignis. 

Ignis cleared his throat. “Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said. 

“That’s  _ my _ line,” Prompto said with a nervous (almost maniacal) giggle. “Sorry for…” and he gestured at his face.

“That’s quite all right,” Ignis said, and took Prompto’s hand. He placed a kiss on Prompto’s knuckles and that was enough for Prompto’s knees to go weak. "May I… come up?"

Prompto's heart leapt into his throat and started doing dances behind his tongue. For a moment he was incapable of making any articulate noise.

Whatever Ignis saw in Prompto's face must have amused him; he gave a low chuckle. "Too soon, perhaps. You're right."

Prompto trembled. "I'm sorr--"

"No, I should apologize," Ignis interrupted, and ran a thumb over Prompto's knuckles in a way he was really beginning to enjoy. "Gladio liked to tell me that I move to quickly for my own good sometimes. I shall do this the right way and woo you properly."

At the mention of Gladio, Prompto's breath seized, so it took him a moment to register the rest of what Ignis had said -- and by then, Ignis had given Prompto's hand a gentle squeeze and let it go.

He gave Prompto a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow? Iris and I will be meeting at the store at two to get everything ready for the event.” 

“S... sure,” Prompto said, and smiled in return. “I’ll be there!” 

Ignis’s smile broadened. “Wave from the window so I know you made it inside.” 

“Gotcha,” Prompto said, and made finger guns at Ignis. Then he dashed up the stairs before he could do anything else to embarrass himself in front of the hottest, most romantic guy he'd ever known.

He fumbled the keys a little but managed to unlock his door, pop on the light, and dash to the window to wave so he wasn’t keeping Ignis waiting. Ignis waved back, and then he was in his car and gone. Prompto stood for a long time staring at the window, trying not to think about feelings or Ignis or the snapshot of Gladio on Ignis's desk. 

Then he thought to check his phone. He’d silenced it before dinner, so he hadn’t noticed the text from Noctis come in. 

**Noctis** [7:06pm]: we're doing lunch saturday  
**Noctis ** [7:06pm]: i wanna know how the date went

“It wasn’t supposed to be a date, Noct, what the hell,” Prompto muttered. But Noctis had this uncanny knack for Knowing Things like this (and he’d assumed it was a date from the beginning, omigosh Noct, how did you even  _ know…) _ Prompto was too wrung out to respond. He set the phone on his nightstand instead. Noctis could wait until tomorrow. 

Prompto got ready for bed in a haze, dropped into it like a stone, and was out like a light in heartbeats. 

In the morning he wondered if he’d dreamed it all. 

He wasn’t sure how to feel. Knowing he had a gig was enough to get him out of bed. He was too nervous to eat breakfast. Or lunch, really. 

Instead, he fussed at his hair and clothes. His best suit was a given -- and he even had a nice silk tie in a decent blue (would blue be okay? Or would it clash with the wedding colors??) When he arrived at Scientia Floral spot on 1:55pm, his belly was roiling but he wasn’t sure if it was hunger or nerves; if he needed food, or was going to be sick.

Iris was delighted to see him. Now that he knew a little about her story, he couldn’t help searching her face for signs of her sorrow. He couldn’t see anything at all; she was all brightness and cheer. He wasn’t about to ask questions. 

Ignis was there too -- spotless, with his hair done up immaculately, and even the puckered scar around his cloudy grey eye looked good, brightened by his eager, hopeful expression. 

Prompto’s stomach clenched. 

“Everything’s packed and ready,” Ignis said. “There’s room for all of us in the van, should you care to join us.”

Honestly, the less Prompto drove his car, the better off he’d be; he’d managed to get it repaired after the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Day, but the thing was a ticking time bomb. “I’d be glad to,” he managed. 

They piled into the van. Iris insisted on Prompto riding shotgun -- and from the eager look she gave him, Prompto wondered how much Ignis had said to her. Once they arrived at the venue, Ignis gave Prompto simple instructions: photograph the arrangements-in-progress as he was setting them up, and then photograph them all again once they were complete. 

Easy enough. 

So he did. He took pictures of Ignis placing the vases on the tables. He took pictures of Ignis (and Iris, naturally) toting the buckets of fresh-cut flowers. He took pictures of Ignis setting up the basic shapes of the arrangements, and then filling them out with more greenery and flowers. He took pictures of Ignis arranging trailing fronds, and threading ribbons through the arrangements. 

Then finally he took pictures of the finished pieces, each in its own place. 

Then their job was done, and it was time to split before guests arrived. 

“You needn’t come for take-down,” Ignis said as they walked back to the van. “We don’t need photos of that.”

“O… okay,” Prompto said, scrolling through picture after picture he’d taken of Ignis. And the flowers, of course, but. There were more shots of Ignis than he’d thought he’d taken.  _ Why was he like this.  _

The drive back to the flower shop (and Prompto’s car) was faster than he expected, and once they arrived, Prompto hopped out and slung his bag of camera equipment over his shoulder while Ignis rounded the front of the van. Prompto couldn’t help but notice how close Ignis lingered. Prompto fiddled with his equipment to avoid meeting his eye. It was hard to ignore him when he was standing so near.

“I’d be glad to have prints again,” Ignis said, finally. “This should cover it.” 

Prompto looked up just in time for Ignis to hand him far more gil than they’d agreed on. When Prompto made a stuttering protest, Ignis pressed it into his hand. “I insist,” he said. “Also… One moment.” Ignis rushed to the front of the store and let himself in. 

Prompto exchanged a look with Iris. She shrugged at him, but there was a glint to her eye. Prompto wondered what she knew. She skirted around to the rear of the van -- pulling things out, Prompto guessed. She came back around carrying flower-laden buckets in each hand. She headed in the front door and nudged it open with a foot.

Not two seconds later, Ignis reemerged, holding a wrapped bouquet: six pale lavender roses, surrounded by baby’s breath and wrapped in ferns. He paused outside the door, his expression hopeful and earnest. 

“Prompto, I… hope you will accept this. As a thank-you.” 

Prompto stared at the flowers. They were all he could look at, as Ignis approached. He was afraid to look at Ignis’s face -- a little terrified of what he would see there. In fact, he didn’t look until Ignis set the flowers in his open hands. 

There were no words to describe Ignis’s beatific expression. Worshipful? Adoring? “Prompto, I…” Ignis swallowed. “Dare I hope…”

And then he leaned in. It took Prompto a moment to realize he was coming in for a kiss.

Prompto froze. 

Ignis hesitated, and looked searchingly at Prompto’s face.

Prompto backed away. “I… gotta…” he stammered. He mumbled some kind of goodbye and then he practically ran for his car. 

His brain must have short-circuited somewhere in there, because the next thing he remembered was getting out of his car at his apartment and bolting up the stairs. 

He flung his door open and slammed it behind himself and leaned against it, and took several slow deep breaths. He could feel himself on the verge of hyperventilating. Why was he hyperventilating. He slowly, carefully, got his breathing under control and pulled out his phone.

**Prompto** [4:07pm]: help

**Noctis** [4:08pm]: what’s up

**Prompto** [4:08pm]: i think i’m dying help

**Noctis** [4:09pm]: omw 

Prompto left his door unlocked so Noctis could just come in. He dropped the gorgeous bouquet on the kitchen counter and stashed his photo equipment in its normal place. He shed his suit jacket and dropped it -- on the bed, he thought, but it landed on the floor instead. He didn't care; he left it there and then he paced the living room. His dressy shoes were uncomfortable but it didn't occur to him to sit long enough to remove them.

He didn't hear the door open. He  _ did  _ hear Noct's quiet "Prompto?"

He spun around. Noctis was paused in the act of closing the door. He stared at Prompto with wide-eyed concern. 

"Noct, I'm in  _ so much trouble." _

Noctis approached and put a hand on his arm. "Hey, you're okay. Wanna sit down? Can I get you some tea?" 

Prompto nodded. He let himself be guided to the couch. He sat, and Noctis didn't say anything; he just went to the kitchen and started up a kettle. Meanwhile, Prompto's initial panic had given way to a general sense of gloom. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose.

Then Noctis asked, "What's with these flowers?"

Without thinking, Prompto shot off the couch, grabbed the bouquet and turned to the kitchen garbage bin. He was about to drop the flowers in it when Noctis lunged and grabbed his wrist.

“What are you  _ doing?”  _ Noctis said. He gently pulled them from Prompto’s hand. “Where did they come from, anyway?” 

Prompto felt his face crumple. “Ignis,” he said. His voice cracked.

“The… the flower guy?” 

Prompto nodded.

“He gave you flowers?” 

Prompto nodded.

“Did… did things go south with him, or something?” 

Prompto shook his head.

“You went out, right?” 

Prompto nodded.

“What happened, then?” Noctis turned the bouquet in his hand, inspecting the perfect blooms. “Was he a dick, or something?”

Prompto shook his head. “No. No, he’s great.” He hated how his voice was wavering.

Noctis squinted at him. “He’s great, and that’s a problem… why?”

“What do I have to offer to someone who’s great?” Prompto cried. “I’m a mess! I don’t have a job, I don’t know how to people, Noct… you’re my only friend and we’re kinda only friends by accident!”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Noct said, his tone dry.

Prompto groaned. He stumbled back to the couch and dropped onto it. “You don’t understand,” he said. “He was married. His perfect husband  _ died in an accident _ and I will  _ never _ measure up. I just know once Ignis gets to know me he’s gonna see he made a terrible mistake.” 

Noctis sighed and Prompto wondered for a moment if his expression was just as irritated as he sounded. Because Prompto was that irritating, after all. 

“I’m making you tea,” Noctis said at last, in an exasperated tone. (Prompto made him exasperated, he was such an awful friend.) “And I’m putting these flowers in a  _ vase _ and you are  _ not  _ putting them in the trash before they  _ actually _ belong there.”

“Nooooct, what am I gonna dooooo,” Prompto whined through his tears. 

“Whaddya mean what are you going to do?” 

“He was gonna kiss me and I ran away.” 

There was silence from the kitchen for a moment. Then Noctis appeared in the doorway with a blank look on his face and a steaming mug in one hand. The tag for one of Prompto’s cheap herbal blends dangled over the side of it. Noctis walked over to the sofa and waited for Prompto to sit up before handing him the mug. Prompto cupped his hands around it, savoring the warmth and breathing in the fragrant steam for a moment. The sofa dipped as Noctis sat down beside him. The movement dangerously jostled the hot tea, but Prompto managed not to spill any. 

Noctis sighed. “Look, Prompto… it’s not the end of the world. If he’s as into you as it looks, he’s not going away anytime soon.”

Prompto blew gently on the top of his tea. “How can he possibly be into me,” he mumbled. 

Noctis cocked an eyebrow at him. “Is this a bad time to tell you that lavender roses mean enchantment and love at first sight?”

Prompto grimaced. “Since when are you an expert in flower language?” 

“Since my dad thought it was something I should know for sending messages.”

“Your dad is weird. Wait,  _ what?” _ Prompto sat up straight as Noct’s interpretation of the flowers finally registered. 

Noctis chuckled. “Honestly? I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Prompto.” 

Prompto peered up at Noctis skeptically. 

“I promise,” Noctis said. “Though if it does go south… I’m just letting you know now, if he hurts you, I’m gonna kill him.” And Noctis smiled.


	7. A Shower of Roses

Noctis offered to stay over that night. He ordered them pizza and they stayed up way too late pummelling each other in Smash Brothers; then collapsed, curled on opposite sides of Prompto’s sofa when they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore. 

Prompto woke first the next morning and exercised great restraint by NOT snapping a photo of Noctis curled around a throw pillow, drooling on the upholstery. Instead, he headed out for his run. He couldn’t bring himself to go past Scientia Floral this morning; the thought of it brought back all his insecurities from the day before rushing through his brain again. Problem was, his alternate route (what used to be his  _ normal _ route) just didn’t have the same appeal it used to. 

He did it anyway.

He got back to his apartment, slumped to the shower, and reemerged dressed and drying his hair, and Noctis was only just stirring. Prompto checked his fridge to see if he had anything for breakfast. Money was starting to get tight so he hadn’t been shopping in a bit. The pay from helping out with Ignis’s portfolio was supposed to go to rent, but he maybe should use some of it to get eggs and milk, or something. 

“Mmmorning,” Noctis mumbled as he trudged past to the bathroom. “Le’s get donuts f’r breakfast…”

“Can’t do that, Noct,” Prompto said. “Gotta look out for my girly figure.”

Noctis eyed him. “Yeah, I guess you have someone to do that for besides yourself now.”

Prompto gasped. “Ouch, that hurt!” 

“Sorry,” Noctis said as he disappeared into the bathroom. “Morning mouth. I’ll be good now. But seriously, breakfast’s on me, don’t do anything.” 

Prompto forgave Noct’s comment once he had a belly full of sausage and eggs and hashbrowns and fruit from the waffle house down the street. Noctis had somewhere to be, so he walked Prompto back to his apartment and then took off for who-knows-what, and Prompto settled in to read his mail from yesterday (a letter from the executor of his parents’ estate and a lot of junk) before his daily job hunt when there was a knock at the door. 

He wasn’t expecting anyone, and it seemed a little early for random visitors. He stood and cautiously cracked the door open… then swung it the rest of the way in shock. 

Iris stood there, holding a vase overflowing with lavender roses. “Delivery!” she said cheerfully.

“Wh...at?” Prompto squeaked. 

“Delivery, silly!” Iris said, and thrust the vase at him. “Here, take it!” 

Prompto couldn’t do anything else. He took the vase and set it on the counter, then Iris offered a cheerful goodbye and was gone, closing the door behind her. 

Prompto gave the bouquet a baffled stare. It wasn’t as large as the first bouquet Ignis had delivered, but it had a charming simplicity -- nearly identical to the wrapped bouquet Ignis had given him yesterday, which sat in its smaller vase on the little table in front of the window, where Jeffrey’s fishbowl had been. Prompto glanced between the two bouquets, comparing them. The one from yesterday, with the tiny baby’s breath and ferns, was smaller and simpler. This new bouquet had a full dozen roses.

It also had a little card tied around the vase’s tapered neck with a ribbon, and Prompto made quick work untying it and opening it. The note inside, written in a flowing, elegant hand, read simply “From your ardent admirer”, and was signed “Ignis”. 

Prompto almost snorted at “ardent admirer” -- like something out of a classic novel. But he couldn’t laugh; this was serious. So serious that he couldn’t focus his mind when he tried to read the letter from his parents’ executor. He finally had to set it aside to read when his mind wasn’t short-circuiting.

He  _ really  _ wasn’t laughing an hour later, when Iris showed up with a third bouquet. She answered his questioning look with a shrug and a smile, and the bouquet joined the other two at the window. 

Then she delivered a fourth, and then a fifth… and then a sixth. After the eighth, when he was starting to run out of counter space, Prompto called Noctis. 

“They’ve been coming on the hour,” he said, tired. 

“Every hour?” 

“Ayep.” Prompto picked at a petal that had fallen from one of the roses to the counter. The table by the window had filled up quickly, and Prompto had resorted to putting vases on any available flat surface.

“Dude, you've found an old-school romantic.”

“I know! What do I do?”

“Hold on and never let go.”

Prompto blinked. “That’s… the weirdest advice you’ve ever given me.” 

“Seriously, Prompto, just roll with it.”

“And just how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?” 

“You like him, don’t you?”

Prompto sputtered.

“He’s nice, he’s into you--” 

“Noct, I just… I can’t let him ruin his life over me!”

“Who says he’d be ruining anything? Prompto, you’re a great guy! You deserve to be happy!”

“This isn’t about that, it’s just…” Prompto sighed and pushed away from the counter to pace the cramped living room. 

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Noctis asked, “Who’s bringing them?” 

“So far, it’s just been the girl that helps out at the shop.”

“He’s not bringing them himself?” 

Prompto snorted. “If  _ he  _ were bringing them, I wouldn’t open the door. Noct, I embarrassed myself so bad yesterday, and  _ all this isn’t helping.” _

“What do you want me to say?” 

“I dunno! I just--” 

The doorbell rang again. 

“Astrals,” Noctis muttered.

Prompto sighed. “I can’t take any more of this. This has to stop.” 

“Prompto--”

“He shouldn’t be wasting all his time and money on me." 

* * *

Prompto waved off a tired-looking but still chipper Iris, then set the ninth bouquet on the bathroom counter. He stared at it for several minutes, his mind racing. Then he headed to the flower shop. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

No one came to the front when the tinkling bell announced his arrival, but Ignis’s voice drifted out from his office in the back. Prompto slowly followed the sound down the hallway.

“Please, if you could spare a couple dozen more,” Ignis was saying. “It’s important.” A brief silence followed, and then “All right. I’ll send Iris over to get them right away.” Then a beep as he turned off the phone. Then a sigh. 

Prompto reached the office door and stopped cold, staring at the stacks and stacks of lavender roses piled on Ignis’s desk. Iris was there too, her back to him; she’d folded her arms across her chest, and she was shaking her head.

“You’ve cleaned out everyone in town,” Iris was saying, with a chuckle. “You’re gonna scare him off, you know.”

“I just found him,” Ignis said, firmly. “I’m not going to--”

His eyes met Prompto’s over Iris’s shoulder, and he shot to his feet. Iris turned, and the surprise on her face quickly shifted to a knowing smile. She patted Prompto’s arm as she fled the room. Prompto watched her retreat to the front vestibule, then turned back to Ignis. 

Tall, impossibly handsome, perfect Ignis, looking at him with an expression he could only describe as sheepish. 

And now that Prompto was here, he wasn’t really sure what he wanted to say.

“So, ah…” he finally managed. “I’m kind of, you know, running out of room at my apartment, and…” He gestured weakly at the mounds of roses littering Ignis’s office. “You, ah, really don’t need to do this.” 

Ignis rounded the desk. He looked a little like he wanted to reach out, but he held back, twining his fingers awkwardly together instead. “I felt like I did,” he said softly. 

"But it's so much," Prompto said. "And these…" He fingered one of the roses. "These can't be cheap."

"They're among the best," Ignis said, with quiet pride. "They're hard to find, but I have my sources." He picked one of the roses up and slowly twirled its stem between his fingers before setting it down again. “You don’t…” The sudden uncertainty in Ignis’s voice seemed uncharacteristic, somehow. “You like them, I hope?”

Prompto fidgeted and shrugged and couldn’t look Ignis in the eye. “I mean, I… No one’s ever given me flowers before you, so…”

“I find that difficult to believe,” Ignis said.

Prompto snorted before he could stop himself. “Better believe it,” he laughed. His laugh died away as he eyed the pile of flowers. “I just can’t believe… that you’d… do all that for  _ me.” _

A gentle finger on his chin turned his face back to Ignis. “I told you,” Ignis said. “I want to woo you properly.”

Prompto felt like his face was aflame. 

He’d never really dated anyone (he’d dreamed of asking Cindy out, but he’d also known it was futile), and the concept of having someone pursue  _ him _ was beyond imagining. And yet… here was Ignis, so poised and put together, and… looking at him like  _ that. _ Behind his glasses, Ignis’s eyes gleamed -- one green and one cloudy grey. 

Prompto couldn’t stop the manic giggle that bubbled up. “Who says things like ‘woo’ these days?” 

“Apparently I do,” Ignis said, and Astrals, he was stepping closer.

Prompto swallowed. “But you don’t even know me,” he breathed. He was gonna cry again, he could feel it.

Ignis took one of Prompto’s hands in his. “I would certainly like to,” Ignis said. 

“This is all just… too perfect for me.”

“I think you’re entitled to a little too much perfection,” Ignis replied. 

And there… there went Prompto’s resolve. He moved first, but Ignis met him -- and his lips were soft, searching. And the kiss was tender and… not as long as Prompto wanted, but when they pulled apart, he was still breathless. 

He felt tears roll down his cheek. He  _ was  _ crying, after all. But Prompto found himself smiling crookedly at the flush on Ignis’s cheeks. Ignis cupped his face with a hand, and with a thumb, gently wiped the wet track on Prompto's face. Prompto tried not to lean into the touch, but it was hard. 

"There's… something I'd like to show you," Ignis said. "Would you come up with me?"

"Up… where?" Prompto knew from the building's facade that it had three storeys, but that was all he knew. He had no idea what was up there. 

"Just to the roof," Ignis said, and pulled away, but kept a hold of Prompto’s hand. He led Prompto to the back of the store. Tucked into the back room, a narrow staircase led to the next floor. Prompto trailed after Ignis, who led him up and through a hallway on the second floor (Prompto peered curiously through a door that opened into what looked like an apartment) and then up a second stair to a door. Here, Ignis paused and pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. He thumbed through them until he found what he was looking for, and opened the door.

Prompto followed him out and gasped. 

The roof of the little brownstone was a garden, mossy and verdant. Raised beds framed a tiled path, with potted trees at tasteful intervals. Vines trailed up lattices and birds flitted between branches and everywhere things were in bloom, vibrant with color. 

Prompto only realized he'd stopped in his tracks when Ignis gave his hand a gentle tug, and pulled him along the path. 

The garden wasn't big (there wasn't room for it); in just a few steps, the path opened into a small patio, set with two garden chairs with plump, floral-print cushions. 

"What do you think?" Ignis asked, looking around the space and then peering at Prompto expectantly.

When he found his voice again, Prompto stammered, "I--It's amazing!"

Ignis's smile broadened. He looked out towards the setting sun. "This place was our dream home. Mine and Gladio's."

At Gladio's name, Prompto went very still. 

Ignis didn't seem to notice. "I set up the shop downstairs. We remodeled the second floor into an apartment. He helped me plant the garden." Ignis gestured at the chairs. "We used to sit there and watch the sunsets."

His smile faded. "When I lost him, I… I couldn't bear to come here for a long time. Iris tended to it in my stead. I'm so grateful she kept it up." He gave Prompto a small smile.

"I'm so sorry," Prompto said softly.

"You needn't apologize," Ignis said. "It will never stop hurting, but the memories are dear. This place… I can come here to remember him, now. But I will greatly enjoy having someone to share it with again." 

The conflicting emotions that Prompto felt -- anticipation? dread? (why dread?) -- fell away when Ignis pulled him into an embrace, because his mind sort of short-circuited. His parents had never been much for physical affection and Prompto wasn't sure he could remember the last hug his mom had given him.

As soon as Ignis's arms wrapped around him he tensed -- and then relaxed into it, leaned into Ignis's chest, tucked his head under Ignis's chin. He slipped his own arms around Ignis's torso and Ignis responded by tightening his hold. 

Then Ignis pulled away, and Prompto’s disappointment lasted just long enough to realize he was only doing it so that he could tip Prompto's face up and kiss him again -- deeper and more thoroughly -- and it warmed Prompto in a way that had nothing to do with the weather.

Ignis led him back inside then, and down the stairs to the second floor and his open, airy apartment. Prompto barely paid any mind to the whirlwind tour Ignis gave, because he spent the whole time looking at Ignis. He was smiling more than Prompto had seen so far, and it brightened his face and made him even more stunning. 

Maybe Ignis noticed how much Prompto was staring, because he paused in front of the bedroom door and looked at him. The smile drained from Ignis’s face, replaced with something else -- something that Prompto might have called a  _ smoulder. _ But it couldn’t be a  _ smoulder, _ because it was aimed at  _ Prompto _ , and he was just… Prompto. 

“I… Pardon me,” Ignis said. “I need to make a quick call to Iris. A moment?” 

“Sure,” Prompto said, and stood awkwardly in the hallway while Ignis stepped quickly into the living room. He barely heard Ignis saying something about “man the store for the rest of the afternoon” and maybe “call Talcott if you need and see if he can help”, and then Ignis was coming back down the hallway.

He slowed as he reached Prompto, and pulled Prompto into another warm embrace. Then he pushed the bedroom door open. 

“I hope it’s not too bold of me to ask--” Ignis started, but before he could finish, Prompto curled his fingers around Ignis’s collar and pulled him down into another urgent kiss. That was enough answer to the question Ignis hadn’t quite asked for Ignis to tug him into the room and close the door.


	8. Too Much Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Ignis get to know one another. A little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October was _crazy_ and November is shaping up to be similar, but I'm doing NaNo (modified, at least; I'm aiming to write 500 words per day, and so far, I've been doing at least double that) and this story is one of the beneficiaries of that work, so. :)

Prompto woke slowly, and opened his eyes to a ceiling illuminated with sunlight... a ceiling that wasn't the pale blue he was used to in his room at home. This was more an almond color, warm and bright. He sat up slowly and blinked in confusion at the unfamiliar room… and then he remembered where he was. 

And then he remembered why. 

He blushed, thinking about how skilled Ignis was with his hands. He could still feel the ghosts of Ignis’s fingers everywhere on his skin. He fell back onto Ignis’s glorious bed and savored the sated feeling and the unfamiliar aches. 

He looked over to the other side of the bed. The rumpled linens were empty where Ignis had been, and when Prompto reached over to them, he found they were cold. Ignis had been up for a while, then. Prompto sat up again, and glanced around the room… and only then realized that he was nude under the bedsheets. And he couldn’t see his clothes, where Ignis had dropped them after urgently helping Prompto out of them the night before. They were gone. 

The smells of coffee and cooking bacon wafted in from the kitchen. Prompto could hear the sound of utensils and someone puttering. He wasn’t about to go out there without clothes. He wrapped a blanket around himself and did the next best thing: he raided Ignis’s closet. 

He found a striped button-up long enough to cover everything important, with sleeves down to the middle of his palms. Then he slipped out of the room, clutching at the shirt’s hem so it wouldn’t ride up. 

He found Ignis in the kitchen, making enough breakfast to feed an army. Every unit on the stove was full, with bacon on one, sausage links on another, pancakes behind them, and on the fourth, scrambled eggs. On the counter, a bowl full of cut fruits -- apples, bananas, melon -- sat next to a carton of yoghurt, and a carafe of orange juice (fresh-squeezed, if the masticated orange halves by the sink were any clue) sat next to a carton of milk and a box of granola. 

Ignis didn’t notice Prompto enter, but kept poking at the sizzling bacon with a fork. Prompto finally cleared his throat, and Ignis turned and gave him a shy smile. “Good morning,” he said. 

“What’s all this?” Prompto said, gesturing at all the food. 

“Well…” Ignis said, looking slightly bashful. “I was awake before you, and thought perhaps I would get a start on breakfast, but then I wasn’t sure what your preferences might be, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I thought I’d prepare a bit of everything.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to eat all this.” 

“Of course not -- just take what you like. The plates are there.” Ignis indicated a cupboard above the sink. 

Then Prompto plucked at the shirt he was wearing. _ Ignis's shirt. _ “My… my clothes?” 

“Oh… I thought perhaps I’d clean them for you, so you had something fresh to wear, since we didn’t… really… plan last night.” Ignis’s cheeks pinked up, and Prompto realized suddenly how delightful that looked on him; he wanted to see it again. “They should be done soon. Oh, and I went down to the corner store to pick up some toiletries for you. A toothbrush, some toothpaste — I wasn’t sure which kind you liked, so I picked up a couple different brands — and some deodorant. You can… keep them here, if you like.” His smile seemed hopeful, if not eager.

“How long have you been _ up??” _ Prompto squeaked. 

“... A while.” Ignis pushed up his glasses in a quick, embarrassed-looking gesture. “I… was a little surprised at first when I woke to someone in my bed, and I… couldn’t go back to sleep.” 

It was all so overwhelming and Prompto didn’t know what to say, so he reached up and hooked a hand around Ignis’s neck to draw him down into a languid kiss.

Ignis broke away first. "As much as I would like to continue this," he said with a smile, "I’m afraid I must keep the bacon from burning."

“Okay,” Prompto said, and backed away. 

Prompto ate more than he intended, to please Ignis — and Ignis looked super pleased, actually. Prompto made a bit of a wild guess that Ignis really enjoyed cooking for people. His food was great, and Prompto made sure to tell him. When Ignis responded by pushing his glasses up to hide a blush, Prompto promised himself to say so at every opportunity. As soon as Prompto's clothes were dry he shed Ignis's shirt and pulled them on, fresh and cozy from the dryer, with the blushing hope that maybe he'd have a chance to take them off again before the morning was over.

It was a Sunday, so the shop downstairs was closed for the day. They took full advantage and didn’t leave Ignis’s apartment for the whole morning -- except to go up and spend some time in the rooftop garden. (Prompto had to admit, he spent very little time appreciating the garden, and more time appreciating the feel of Ignis’s lips on his.)

Prompto hoped to have many more days like this: tranquil and lazy, and mostly in Ignis’s arms. The lighting was perfect for the mood, filtering through the open windows and speckling the neat throw rugs. Ignis’s taste in decorating was impeccable, and his love for flowers bled into the apartment; there were small arrangements everywhere. (“Cast-offs and leftovers,” Ignis said, when Prompto asked. “It’s a shame to let them go to waste, so I bring them here.”) 

They talked, in between kisses. Ignis’s parents lived in a pleasant suburb. His uncle lived in town, practically around the corner. He had two siblings: an older sister, a younger brother, both with families of their own. A couple aunts. Iris, who was as good as a sister to him. The rest of the Amicitias, who had folded him into their lives as though he was another son.

Family.

Prompto didn’t have anything like that. He talked about his previous job, his photography, his BFA show last spring. About Noct. “You’ll have to meet him sometime,” Prompto said, as they ate a late lunch of coldcut sandwiches.

Ignis just smiled and sliced an apple for them to share. 

Mid-afternoon, Ignis shyly invited him (“Officially, since we… rather skipped that part last night,” he said with a deep blush) to spend the night again — and Prompto eagerly accepted, and thought Ignis’s delighted smile was so pure that he kissed it. 

They walked to Prompto’s, and Ignis loitered discreetly in the living room with the bajillion roses he’d sent while Prompto packed an overnight bag. It was just one night, and he could come back for anything else he needed, but he glanced around his room nonetheless. This had been his home for mere months -- a place he moved to after his parents had told him they needed to sell their house in Insomnia. Yet in that time, he’d made a lot of great memories -- mostly with Noct, in front of the game console.

He’d have to decide what to do with it soon, especially if he couldn’t find a job. He needed to answer the letter from his parents’ executor, too… From what he’d gleaned when he tried to read it before, his parents had a good-sized (and very valuable) condo in Altissia and Prompto needed to decide what to do with it; whether to sell it or keep it — or he could actually pack up and go live in it. He’d have to be able to _ afford _to keep it, too, and that was another whole kettle of fish… 

He… couldn’t think about that. Not now; not yet. He didn’t want to think about moving at all. Not with Ignis waiting. Whatever he and Ignis had, he wanted to enjoy it to the fullest while it lasted.

Ignis was looking at the framed photos Prompto had on the wall (all landscapes, and all his), but he turned and smiled when Prompto came back in, bag in hand. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost,” he said, and cupped Prompto’s cheek. “You look radiant.”

Prompto’s face burned, because of course, and Ignis’s smile softened, and he leaned forward to kiss Prompto and Prompto decided right then that he’d never get enough of Ignis’s tender affection. 

Ignis pulled away far too soon, and gave a rueful look at all the roses. “I rather think I may have gone a little overboard,” he said.

“Yeah, well,” Prompto teased. “I was gonna say something, but.”

Ignis chuckled. “I suppose it was effective,” he said. “You came over.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, “to tell you to stop.” He aimed an elbow at Ignis’s side, but Ignis deftly sidestepped it. “Ooooh,” Prompto said. “Light on your feet!”

“I may have aspired to be a dancer at one point,” Ignis said, and took Prompto’s bag from him. “Shall we?”

And they returned to the apartment above the flower shop.

* * *

That week started a pattern. 

Prompto would wake in Ignis’s bed and eat a delicious breakfast at Ignis’s table. Then Ignis would descend the stairs to open the shop. Prompto would head back to his own apartment to his laptop to search for jobs. In the afternoon he’d take his camera out and work on adding to his portfolio. Somewhere in the evening, he’d get a text from Ignis, inviting him to dinner and asking if he’d like to stay the night, and of course his answer was yes. 

And every evening, on the table, was a new bouquet of that day’s cast-offs. One day, yellow tulips and white camellias; the next, pink carnations and ferns. Every day something different. Prompto was pretty sure they meant something, especially after what Noct had said about the lavender roses. Prompto just thought they were pretty.

They quickly discovered many happy things like their coinciding penchant for early mornings. Ignis’s taste for black coffee, Prompto’s love of spicy foods. 

They didn’t talk much. They didn’t need to. When they did talk, Ignis spoke freely of his family. Prompto… didn’t. And he desperately hoped Ignis didn’t notice.

Prompto didn’t tell Noct until a week had passed -- and then, it was only because Noctis texted him. 

**Noctis** [11:43am]: u ever gonna be home in the evening?

**Prompto ** [11:44am]: why?  
**Prompto** [11:44am]: you aren’t just showing up at my place unannounced, are you?

**Noctis** [11:45am]: so what if i am  
**Noctis** [11:45am]: i got the latest assassins creed and i wanted to surprise u  
**Noctis **[11:46am]: but u havent been home all week

Prompto didn’t know what to say at this point. He and Ignis hadn’t really _ talked _ about what they were; they’d just… acted. He wasn’t even sure if he could call Ignis his _ boyfriend. _He switched chat logs and hoped Ignis wasn’t busy at work.

**Prompto** [11:49am]: is it ok if i tell noctis about us ??

**Ignis **[11:50am]: You mean you haven’t told him anything yet?

**Prompto ** [11:50am]: nah i just wasn’t really sure if i could  
**Prompto** [11:50am]: i mean… is it okay if I call u my boyfrind?

**Ignis** [11:51am]: I would be honored.  
**Ignis **[11:52am]: Though spelling it properly might do you some good. ;)

**Prompto** [11:52am]: did u just… winky-eye emoji at me???

**Ignis** [11:53am]: And if I did?

**Prompto **[11:53am]: I LOV U

Prompto hit send and immediately regretted it. Was it too early to say the “L” word? Or maybe his first time saying it should be in person. But it was too late now to take it back. Besides… Ignis was pretty amazing. And maybe they’d been strangers a month ago, but now…

Now, they probably were still strangers. Yeah, they talked some, but… what did they really know about each other? Aside from the fact that Ignis was unfairly attractive, and… somehow he apparently thought Prompto was not bad. Prompto wasn’t sure how that had happened. He was so… freckled. And awkward, and ordinary-looking. And Ignis was just… godly. 

Prompto switched over to the other chat log.

**Prompto** [11:56am]: been spending the evenings with Ignis

**Noctis** [11:57am]: U WHAT  
**Noctis** [11:57am]: you, me, lunch, NOW  
**Noctis** [11:58am]: gotta get the deets

Prompto laughed, and for the first time in a long time, it was purely joyful.

* * *

Noctis didn’t tease him _ too _much. He wagged his eyebrows in Prompto’s direction far too many times for Prompto’s taste, and made whistling sounds at him after Prompto admitted to spending every night that week at Ignis’s place. 

“But seriously, Prompto, you look happy,” he finally said, when he’d gotten all that teasing out of his system at last.

“I…” Prompto did a quick self assessment. “I think I am. I mean… I have a _ gorgeous _ boyfriend who’s an _ amazing _ cook and brings me flowers every night. What more could I ask for?” 

Noctis smiled softly. “You really deserve all the happiness.” 

“You too,” Prompto said. 

“Heh, I’ve got Luna,” Noctis said with a shrug.

“Yeah, who’s half a world away.” Prompto jabbed Noctis in the side with his elbow. 

“We write! Every day, sometimes! That’s enough for me.” 

Prompto raised an eyebrow at him, but Noctis shrugged it off. “Seriously, though,” Prompto said, “Thanks for being a good friend through all my… stuff.” All his years of enduring his parental neglect, putting himself through college on part-time jobs... Noctis was always encouraging him through bouts of self-doubt and just… was always supportive.

“So,” Noctis said, in an ‘I’m completely changing the subject’ tone, “when are you gonna marry him?”

Prompto choked on his bite of sandwich. Noctis pounded on his back until he caught his breath again.

_ “Marry?” _ Prompto said when he found his voice again. “You gotta be-- I can’t _ marry _ him. He’s already had a perfect husband. He still has _ that whole family. _ Someday he’ll see I don’t measure up to what he had before, and he’ll move on.” 

Noctis made some kind of noise of protest, but Prompto ignored it. 

“Look, I’m a realist, alright?” he said. “I don’t know how long this’ll last, but I’m not gonna hold my breath for a ring. I’m just gonna enjoy what I’ve got until he wakes up and figures out how lame I am.”

“You’re not lame,” Noctis countered.

“Glad someone thinks so,” Prompto said -- but when Noctis’s eyebrows pinched together and he opened his mouth -- probably to chew him out for being so down on himself -- Prompto gave him a nudge with his elbow and cracked a goofy grin. “I should introduce you. We should do lunch with _ him _ sometime.” 

Noctis closed his mouth and nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I gotta see this weirdo who sends flowers to absolute strangers.”

* * *

Lunch with Noctis took a little bit to arrange. Noct’s Sundays were busy a lot of the time with events and things with his dad’s company, and it was hard to pry Ignis away from the store during the week, even for lunch. Prompto finally managed (with Iris’s help) to coordinate a Wednesday lunch away. They gathered at a little bistro not far from the flower shop. 

The introduction was… rocky. Prompto had forgotten how protective Noctis could get. He stared at Ignis with narrowed eyes and asked him pointed questions until Prompto kicked him under the table. 

Ignis was pretty chill about it, while Prompto tried to get Noctis talking about himself. 

“You must think all this pretty… sudden,” Ignis said, after they’d ordered.

“Well, yeah,” Noctis said, leaning his elbows on the table. “Gotta say, though, Prompto looks happier than I’ve seen him in ages.”

“But?”

“But if you hurt him, I’ll kill you.” And Noctis gave Ignis a perfectly mild smile that Prompto knew meant serious business.

“Noct,” he hissed, and kicked his friend under the table again. He looked sheepishly at Ignis -- only to find him smiling fondly. 

“You two look to be quite good friends,” Ignis said softly. “How long have you known each other?” 

“Sort of since grade school,” Noctis said. “I mean… he and I were in the same school? But we didn’t actually meet until we ended up at the same high school together.”

Ignis raised one eyebrow. “The son of a major media mogul attended a public school?” 

Noctis just shrugged and took a large bite of his sandwich. “Dad thought it would keep me grounded,” he said around the bite.

“Noct, you’re barbaric,” Prompto groaned. 

Ignis just chuckled. 

Things went more smoothly after that, to Promtpo’s great relief. They talked about Noct’s work with his dad, about Luna, about Noct’s charity work… Prompto was grateful, because anytime Ignis even hinted at asking about Prompto’s family, he was easily able to steer the conversation towards Noctis instead. In the end, Noctis and Ignis hit it off quite well. By the time they were ready to go, Noctis was telling Ignis he could probably arrange some jobs for him with his dad’s events-planning office — and Ignis, business as always, pulled out a business card and handed it over.

Outside the cafe, Noctis hared off in one direction and Prompto and Ignis to the other; Ignis was, naturally, anxious to get back to the shop. They walked in silence for a while — companionable, Prompto thought; it was nice not to have to talk to fill the air between them, to just feel Ignis’s hand in his own.

“Noctis seems like quite a good friend to you,” Ignis said. “I’m glad to have met him.”

Prompto laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Noct’s one of a kind. He’s so… amazingly down-to-earth.” 

“Mmmm,” Ignis said. “I look forward to meeting more of your friends and acquaintances, especially if they’re all as interesting as Noctis.”

Prompto gave a shaky laugh. He didn’t want to admit yet that Noctis was _ it, _ really. He knew he’d have to, at some point, but. 

He savored the feeling of his fingers laced through Ignis’s and hoped this was one can he could keep kicking down the road. For now.


	9. Something to Celebrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Ignis discover that they have different ideas about what's worth celebrating...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, my timing was just right to release this particular chapter just before American Thanksgiving… XD Happy Thanksgiving to all you readers who celebrate it!

They’d been together for nearly a month when mid-November rolled around. Over time, they developed a comfortable routine. Prompto liked helping Ignis wash and put away dishes after dinner, mostly to hurry things up so they could get to Prompto’s favorite part of the evening (the part that started with cuddling). Late one evening, they were well into this post-dinner ritual and Prompto was drying and shelving their dinner glasses when Ignis paused, looking at the serving tray in his hands. 

It was just ornate enough for Prompto to think it was fancy -- scalloped edges, and trimmed with delicately-painted ivy.

“My sister gave this to us for our wedding,” Ignis murmured. 

Prompto stilled. He'd learned, in their time together, that it was best to be silent and let Ignis work through whatever memory was surfacing. If he pressed with questions, Ignis would just wave a hand and say something about "not worth troubling you with my past" and that would be it. The stories, though… they were usually worth hearing. Even when they involved Gladio and reminded Prompto that he was playing second fiddle to a memory.

“It’s from a fine porcelain shop in Altissia, near where our parents met. My sister gave it to us in hopes that we'd have as prosperous a union.”

Prompto's eyes widened and he heard himself gasp. "How sweet!" He breathed.

“It was quite something,” Ignis said. He glanced up at Prompto with a tight smile, his face awash with something wistful. “My parents met at the Totomostro, you know.” 

“No! Seriously?”

“Indeed,” Ignis said, setting the tray in its place in a top cupboard. “My father was there, escorting a diplomat from the Tenebraean court, and my mother was with a family friend who had a penchant for gambling and brought my mother along to keep her from going overboard. Both of them were exceptionally bored, so they went wandering around the balconies and… ran into each other, I guess. I suppose you could say they hit it off rather famously.”

“You  _ suppose?” _ Prompto teased. Ignis had told him enough about his parents that he knew they were madly in love. Even now, nearing their 60s, they were hopeless, embarrassing romantics. 

Ignis didn’t seem to mind the tease. He chuckled. “How about your parents?" he asked.

Prompto froze. “What?” 

“How did they meet?”

“Oh, ah.” Prompto did not chew his lip. He  _ did not. _ “Nothing so interesting,” he said at last. “I. I think I like our story much better.”

Ignis smiled, and Prompto went in for a kiss, to discourage any more discussion.

* * *

“When is your birthday?” Ignis said the next morning. 

Prompto nearly choked on his pancakes. Ignis patted his back while he recovered. “Sorry,” he said at last, as he scrambled for something to say. Fact was, he didn’t actually  _ know _ his birthday. It wasn’t a high priority for his adopted parents. 

A memory flashed through his mind. A bright sunny day… an envelope. A classmate’s invitation to a party. His mother’s apology:  _ “We won’t be here to take you; I’m sorry.”  _

A question: _ “When’s  _ MY  _ birthday?” _

His mother, looking at him.  _ “I’m sorry, honey; we don’t know.” _

Another reminder that he was adopted. Another reminder that he was different; all his classmates had birthdays and  _ knew _ when they were. He didn’t.

Some days he wondered why his parents hadn’t at least  _ pretended.  _ At the very least they could have celebrated the day when they’d adopted him… but he only knew what day  _ that _ was because he’d seen it on his adoption paperwork. 

That date seemed good enough. He’d been about a year old, as far as anyone could tell.

“October twenty-fifth,” he blurted out. 

Ignis straightened. “What?” he said, and he sounded upset. Prompto hadn’t heard him upset before. “But that was just a couple weeks ago. Why didn’t you  _ say _ anything?” 

Prompto shrugged nervously. “Because… birthdays aren’t that big a deal?” He hadn’t thought Ignis would take it so bad, or he would have picked a day a little further away. Like, April first or something. 

“That’s ludicrous; of  _ course _ birthdays are a ‘big deal’!” Ignis said. “We’re going out. Tonight.” 

“But—” 

“No buts! I’m going to treat you.”

Prompto protested but it was no use. He already knew that once Ignis made his mind up about something like this, there was no arguing with him. Prompto tried to explain that his family just didn’t do that sort of thing, but it didn’t matter.

“This is my first opportunity to celebrate that you were born and can be part of my life,” ignis said, and really, how was Prompto supposed to argue with  _ that? _

He didn’t argue, but he did almost cry.

That night Ignis took him for savory crepes and then ice cream, and then to the latest big-budget action adventure that he’d been raving about wanting to see. It was quite a sacrifice, Prompto knew; Ignis tolerated blow-em-ups, but they weren’t exactly his thing. Back at Ignis’s apartment, Ignis handed him an impeccably-wrapped package, and he opened it to find a new camera lens; the exact model he’d been drooling over. He felt his mouth make a perfect, soundless “o” as he lifted it out of the package.

Then he really did cry -- shuddering sobs that he just couldn’t stop. He rubbed futilely at his eyes, and finally just pushed his palms into them. He felt Ignis take the box from his lap. He felt the couch dip next to him, felt an arm around his shoulder. 

“Dearest, what’s the matter?” Ignis said, and between the new pet name and the voice so full of tender concern, Prompto sobbed harder. 

It took some time for him to get himself under control, while Ignis rubbed soothing circles between his shoulder blades. At last he took a couple deep, hiccuping breaths. “Sorry,” he said, hating the way his voice trembled. 

“No need to apologize,” Ignis said. “Are you quite all right?” 

Prompto nodded, and took another deep breath. “This was all so… so wonderful. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before; it’s just so… so much.” 

“Surely you’ve had other birthdays,” Ignis said. “This wasn’t even on the  _ day.  _ I feel bad that we ignored it when it was here.”

Prompto sniffed and stared at the ground. He couldn’t let this go any further, but he wasn’t sure how Ignis would take it. “I… I need to tell you something.”

Ignis’s hand stilled on his back. “I’m listening,” he said.

Prompto took a deep breath. “I… don’t really know when my birthday is.” 

Ignis’s hand pulled away. Prompto chanced a look at Ignis’s face; he looked puzzled. 

Prompto hurriedly waved his hands. “It’s -- I mean, October twenty-fifth is as close as you can get; it’s… it’s the day I was adopted.”

“You’re adopted?” Ignis said.

Prompto bit his lip and nodded. “My adopted parents… I mean, they  _ cared _ for me; they made sure I never went hungry and stuff, but they weren’t… they weren’t the sentimental types. They didn’t know when my birthday was, so we just. Never celebrated it.”

“Oh, Prompto…” 

And then Ignis pulled him into a hug -- the squishy kind, where Prompto’s arms were trapped, his hands on Ignis’s chest. He had to twist awkwardly at the hips, and his knee pressed into the side of Ignis’s thigh, and he was sure that was uncomfortable, but Prompto still clutched at Ignis’s striped shirt, and blinked more tears away. He could feel Ignis’s cheek resting against his head. 

It was warm, and so gentle, and Ignis tightened his arms around him in a little squeeze. “We’ll celebrate anytime, however you want,” Ignis murmured into his hair. 

Prompto chuckled shakily. “October’s as good a time as any,” he said. “They think I was around a year old when I was adopted, so.”

Ignis chuckled and squeezed him again, and Prompto felt lips brush against his head. “That’s why you’ve said so little about your family,” Ignis said. 

Prompto stiffened, then relaxed again. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean… there isn’t much to say.”

“You can talk about it whenever you’re ready,” Ignis said. “In the meantime… Happy birthday.”

Prompto slipped his arms around Ignis’s torso and gave him a squeeze in return. “Thanks,” he said.

Later, in the privacy of Ignis’s room, Prompto let Ignis know just how much he appreciated it, as thoroughly as he could.

* * *

Prompto was accustomed to spending the approaching Harvest Festival alone. Usually his parents would wire him some extra money, so on the day everyone else was cooking and feasting with all their relatives, he could hit an all-you-can-eat buffet and get the tastes of the holiday without the bother of anyone’s company. 

He’d always told himself he was fine with that. And maybe he was. 

So when Ignis announced, “My family has invited the two of us to their Harvest Festival feast,” Prompto’s first instinct was to say “no thanks”. Maybe Ignis saw it in his face. “If you don’t have other plans, of course,” he added quickly. 

Prompto’s eyebrows shot up. “Me? Other plans?” It was ridiculous. Of  _ course _ Prompto had no other plans. He had a couple photo shoots booked, but they were the next week. No one, it seemed, was interested in having photography done so close to a huge family holiday. “I just… I mean, if you wanna go, you can go. I’ve got portfolio work to do, so it’s not like I’d be--”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone on a holiday, Prompto,” Ignis said sternly. 

“Well, yeah, but you wouldn’t be  _ leaving  _ me alone; I’d just be  _ staying  _ here.” There  _ was _ a difference. There  _ was.  _ Prompto wouldn’t mind; it would be just like any other Harvest Festival since the Argentums had decided to live closer to their business dealings in Altissia and not take him with them. 

Ignis looked scandalized. “It’s a  _ family holiday,” _ he said. “And… it would please my family very much to meet you. I’ve told them a lot about you, you see, and--”

“But I’m… I’d just… be in the way. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. I wouldn’t know anyone.” 

“You could  _ get _ to know them,” Ignis said. “You wouldn’t be in the way. And I would miss your company.” He took Prompto’s hand. “Please? It’s at my sister’s house in Lestallum this year. She’s invited the Amicitias too. Her house is quite spacious, and we’ve been promised a private room. You’d have a place to go anytime you started to feel overwhelmed.”

“Well, I guess I can’t say no to  _ that,” _ Prompto said. He could, actually, but he couldn’t say no to the earnest look in Ignis’s eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay.”

Ignis’s face lit up like the sun. “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll let them know to expect us.” He pulled out his phone and stepped away, leaving Prompto to ponder the laundry he was folding. 

Part of him was… not excited, exactly, but curious. He couldn’t remember having a true Harvest Festival feast. Not in a long time, anyway. He had some hazy memories of a table full of food, when he was tiny and his parents still cared and Nana and PopPop Argentum would invite them out to their farm in Duscae for the feast. He could barely remember the huge roast chickatrice, the sweet potatoes, cranberries, and more. Nana went all out, making more food than the five of them could ever imagine eating. 

That had been ages ago. Back when his adopted parents still pretended he was just the son they wanted.

He was really, really young when PopPop had passed away. After PopPop’s death and Nana’s decline in health… Prompto could barely remember his parents’ hushed discussions about the sale of the old farm; about bringing Nana to Insomnia so they could care for her. After she was moved into a retirement home in Insomnia, Prompto’s parents took him to visit her exactly once before she passed, too. 

After that… 

His dad was an only child, and his mom’s family was too far away, but also, they’d grown more distant from  _ him, _ too. 

Those old feasts with Nana and PopPop had been pretty quiet, with Prompto the only child there. Imagining a house full of Ignis’s family -- Ignis’s siblings, nephews, nieces, Ignis’s  _ parents _ … Prompto swallowed against a knot of anxiety that rose in his throat. 

No, he could do this. He’d do it because it would make Ignis happy.  _ He could do this. _

* * *

“I can’t do this,” Prompto said for the fifth time since they crossed into Duscae. 

Ignis reached over and covered Prompto’s trembling hand with his own. “Yes you can,” he said. “It will be just fine.”

“There’s still time,” Prompto said. “We could just turn around right now and be back at the apartment in time for the Harvest Feast; we’ll order takeout from one of those buffets, we can have a nice, quiet feast all by ourselves and it will--” 

“Not be a Harvest Feast,” Ignis cut in. “Not a real one, anyway.  _ You’ll be fine.” _

But Prompto wasn’t fine at all. He’d come to realize that  _ the Amicitias,  _ as Ignis had mentioned his sister inviting, referred to both Iris  _ and _ her father Clarus, and now Prompto couldn’t unsee an older-looking Gladio (based on that one-and-only picture he’d seen of him) glaring at him as if he could kill Prompto with his  _ mind _ for the crime of stealing away his son-in-law. That just exacerbated Prompto’s already heightened anxiety at the thought that he was going to be in a house full of people he didn’t know on a holiday he was used to spending alone. 

He was expecting scrutiny from Ignis’s family. He was the new boyfriend, after all, and he knew there’d be some measure of analysis, and he knew that he far from measured up to anything like Ignis’s standard. But he was kind of taking the place that Clarus’s  _ son _ had filled _ …  _ How would Clarus take it?

(How closely did Gladio take after his dad? Was Clarus just as giant?)

They pulled onto the long bridge leading to Lestallum and Prompto took some deep, measured breaths to keep from hyperventilating -- and not from the height. 

Ignis found them a parking spot near the Taelpar Crag overlook, and turned off the ignition. He gave Prompto a small, encouraging smile, then pulled out his phone. “Ah,” he said. “It looks like Iris and her father beat us here.”

“Last to arrive, heh,” Prompto said, and cursed the shaky tone of his voice. 

“Relax,” Ignis said. “This is a happy holiday; and everyone is disposed to like you.”

“I wish I believed that,” Prompto said.

“Of course they are,” Ignis said. “They’ve heard about you from  _ me.” _

Prompto wasn’t sure that made him feel better. All the same, he grabbed his bags and followed Ignis into the city. 

He wasn’t too nervous to notice the beauty of the late-afternoon light angling through the buildings of Lestallum. He couldn’t help a little gasp. Ignis smiled at it, and then led him further in. 

They wove through the narrow streets. Prompto followed in Ignis’s wake, trying to swallow his nerves. He could do this.  _ He could do this. _ It lasted just up to the point where Ignis turned down an alley and they found a row of three-storey homes with balconies -- and Iris was leaning over the railing on one of them. 

Her face beamed when she caught sight of them, and she bounced and waved. Prompto couldn’t help smiling, and the knot in his chest relaxed a little. 

“Hey guys!” she called. “You made it!” 

“We did indeed,” Ignis replied. “Would you have Lillian open the door for us?”

“Sure thing!” she said, and disappeared inside.

“Well,” Ignis said, as they approached the door. “This is it.” He set their bags down and gave the door a solid knock, then turned and beckoned to Prompto. When Prompto joined him on the step, Ignis leaned in, pulled him close, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for coming with me,” he said. “It was… hard to come alone last year.”

Prompto gave him a crooked smile. “Well, hopefully we can make some better memories this year,” he said.

Ignis’s smile turned soft and his eyes went a little misty. “Indeed,” he murmured.

Then the door opened for them. Voices and boisterous laughter spilled out of it, and Ignis gestured for Prompto to go in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the toughest things to figure out as a couple (even when you're not quite so emotionally compromised as these two) is how to celebrate, and what traditions to observe. It takes a lot of discussion and give and take... and years, sometimes, to build traditions of your own. 
> 
> But yeah, Prompto, let Ignis celebrate your birthday with u >:(


	10. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto gets the full-on panicky experience of meeting Ignis's family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the holiday season... 
> 
> Writing is taking a necessary back seat to other things, so posting is going to be slow until at least the new year, but I'll do my best!

The next half-hour was a blur.

Prompto _ knew _ in his head that there would be a lot of people at Ignis’s sister’s house, but he hadn’t stopped to think about what that would _ look _like. In this case, it meant that Ignis’s sister Lillian met them at the door with a joyful smile and a “Do please come in!” She leaned in and gave Ignis a hug, and when Prompto offered his hand to shake, she said, “Nonsense, you’re as good as family too,” and gave him a hug as well. He tensed at first, but then relaxed into it and gave her a feeble pat on the back. 

Then she backed away, and pulled forward a man who’d been lurking behind her in the hallway, and introduced him as her husband, Lars. Then another younger man crowded in behind that with a “Great to see you” and hug for Ignis, and a “We’ve heard a lot about you” and a backslap for Prompto. He managed to glean that this was Terran, Ignis’s little brother. Then a whirlwind of kids rushed past and out the door, and Lillian sighed and said, “Those were the twins, I’ll introduce them when they come back in,” and led Prompto further in.

He could feel Ignis at his back, and was grateful for that solid presence at least. 

The entry hall opened after several feet into a sitting room festively-decorated in autumn colors -- and full of more people, including several other kids and an older couple that Prompto thought might be Ignis’s parents. He recognized Iris, and decided with sudden panic that the older, grey-haired man sitting next to her -- with the sharp face, one eyebrow raised inquisitively -- was Clarus. 

Clarus was just as terrifying in person as Prompto had imagined: tall (even sitting down), with a stern face and close-cropped grey hair -- almost a military cut. Prompto couldn’t help swallowing.

“This is Prompto,” Lillian announced to the room at large, and everyone greeted him back with waves and smiles and “Welcome!” and “Glad you could make it!” on their lips.

Prompto laughed nervously and gave a timid wave. 

Then to his alarm, Terran pushed him into the room, and with a hand on his back, individually introduced him to _ everyone. _He did his best to file all the names away (he’d heard them before; now he just needed to make sure he could match a face to each of them). 

When he got to Ignis’s parents, they both stood. Ignis’s mom -- a sweet-looking_ (terrifying) _ lady with Ignis-colored hair in an angular pixie cut -- leaned in and gave him a squeeze. “We’re so happy to meet you,” she said. “Ignis can’t stop talking about you.”

“Heh heh,” Prompto said. “I hope it’s nothing too awful.”

“Of course not, dear,” she said. “It’s all good.” She cupped his cheek, and then pulled away.

Ignis’s father -- practically identical to Ignis in all but age -- settled for shaking Prompto’s hand and smiling.

Iris couldn’t help giving him a big squeeze. Clarus, on the other hand, sat and looked at him with an unreadable expression. He was silent until Terran maneuvered Prompto over to him. “So this is the young man who caught Ignis’s attention, after all this time,” Clarus said, by way of greeting.

Prompto laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, ah. Iris said you were coming; she was pretty stoked.”

Clarus gave him a tight smile. “The Scientias have been good friends for a long time. And it’s very nice to finally meet you, too. Iris can’t say enough about you.” 

Then Clarus stood and Prompto nearly swallowed his tongue, as he looked up and up and up (Clarus was _ tall) _ . Clarus’s hand engulfed Prompto’s and he gave a solid shake. Prompto winced at Clarus’s firm (not painful, but it _ could have been) _grip. “I look forward to getting to know you,” he said.

Prompto barely heard Ignis’s murmured “Nice to see you here, Clarus,” behind him. Then Ignis’s hand on his back guided him out the other end of the living room, and Ignis said, “We’ll just take our things up to our room, if you don’t mind.”

From the other end of the room, Lillian said, “Certainly. It’s the green one, up the stairs and to the back.” 

“Thanks,” Ignis said, and then guided Prompto up a staircase to the level above. 

“Up the stairs” in this case was the third level -- the homes in Lestallum, like the streets, were narrow and tall -- and after two flights of stairs, Prompto was more than ready to unload his things in the “green one to the back”. And Lillian wasn’t kidding when she said green. The carpet, the paint, the bedding, the window dressings…

“Guess it’s a good thing green’s a nice color,” he said, looking around the room. 

Ignis laughed. “Lillian likes themes,” he said. He set his own things against the wall under the window, and turned -- and Prompto swallowed. That angle, with the late afternoon light streaming through the window, illuminated Ignis’s face in a way that made him look absolutely unearthly. Prompto wanted to pull out his camera to capture it… but was interrupted in that thought when Ignis said, “Are you quite all right?” 

“Huh?” Prompto said. “Oh… yeah, I’m fine.”

“I know that crowd downstairs can be… overwhelming.” Ignis smiled at him. “You are welcome to spend as much time as you like to freshen up. I’ll see what the plans for dinner are, and let you know.”

After their long drive, Prompto was more than ready for some “freshening up”, but dinner sounded amazing, too… if he could survive the horde. “Yeah,” he managed. “That sounds good.” 

Ignis pulled him in for a hug, and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for coming,” he said. “It means a lot to me.”

Prompto slipped an arm around Ignis’s back. “‘Course,” he said into Ignis’s collar. 

Ignis gave him a quick peck on the lips and then left Prompto to “freshen up” -- and Prompto took full advantage, while he was alone. He spent some time in the bathroom, and then took a moment to change his shirt for something cleaner (he’d spilled sauce on his traveling shirt and whoa, wasn’t that embarrassing once he realized he’d met all those people with a sauce spot on his shirt). 

When he was pretty much done, he hesitated at the top of the stairs. Ignis was supposed to find out what dinner plans there were, but among the voices downstairs he heard Ignis’s laugh. He was talking with all these relatives he’d probably not seen in ages, and… and he _ should. _ Prompto knew (maybe better than anyone) how important family was. 

Prompto sat on the top step. He wasn’t ready yet -- not to face all those people. He knew in his _ mind _ that they were all nice and meant well, but… but there were _ so many. _

He had a moment’s warning when he heard Ignis’s voice echo up the stairs saying something about going “to check on Prompto”, and he scrambled to his feet. He started down the stairs as if that was what he meant to do all along just as Ignis appeared on the landing below. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ignis said cheerfully. “They’re just pulling out sandwich fixings for now. Everyone’s been baking pies all day and no one felt like cooking. And to be honest, neither do I, after driving all day.”

“Sandwiches sound perfect,” Prompto said with a smile, and bounced down the last step to the landing and bumped Ignis’s hip with his own.

Ignis looped an arm around his shoulders and smiled down at him, then leaned in to plant a kiss on his head. “You’re delightful,” he murmured into Prompto’s hair. 

The vibration of his voice on Prompto’s scalp made him shudder. He leaned into Ignis’s chest. “You are too, you know that, right?” 

“Mmmm, only because you tell me so.” 

Then Ignis guided him back down into the crowd.

* * *

Prompto survived the evening. Barely. 

He managed short, nervous answers whenever anyone asked him anything -- and most of the questions were things like “what do you do?” and “where are you from?” and stuff like that. There were a couple who ventured to ask “how did you meet” -- because they’d somehow missed hearing it from Ignis -- and Prompto’s stammered explanation didn’t seem like quite enough.

He had a hard time not making it sound stupid, actually. “We met because he delivered flowers to me” didn’t seem like quite enough.

At some point in the evening, someone opened up some tabletop strategy game, and pulled Ignis in. Prompto managed to avoid playing because the game could only accommodate six players, and there were plenty of other people who spoke up and wanted to join. 

Avoiding the game only created another problem… Prompto was sure he wasn’t imagining Clarus’s piercing glare from the corner of the room, where he sat chatting with Ignis’s dad. Clarus hadn’t said anything to make Prompto _ really _ think he disliked him… but he didn’t have to. Prompto knew he didn’t measure up to what Ignis had had before. And Prompto was sure that Ignis picking up another boyfriend was just a reminder of Clarus’s own personal loss. 

Prompto finally escaped to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of fruity punch from a pitcher Lillian had left on the counter (and kept refreshing as people emptied it). It was simple and both sweet and sour, and nonalcoholic for the kids. (Someone had mentioned they’d be pulling out more adult offerings once the kids were all in bed, but Prompto wasn’t sure he’d last that long.) 

Lillian was in the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi,” Prompto said, when he noticed her by the sink.

“Oh, Prompto!” Lillian said. She quickly dried her hands off and faced him. “I wanted to say earlier, but there hasn’t been a good time… Thank you for coming with Ignis. He was worried you wouldn’t want to, but we’re all so glad you did.”

“Heh heh,” Prompto said, and nervously picked at the hem of his shirt. “Thanks for… for including me in the invitation.” 

“I couldn’t do anything else,” she said softly. “You know… this year has been so hard for him, and you’ve been a light that he desperately needed in his life.” 

Prompto bit his lip. 

“You should have seen him last year,” she continued. “He was… he was just a ghost of himself. But now, he’s turned completely around, and we all think he owes it to you.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” Prompto managed. 

“We all do,” she said, and put a hand on his arm. “Now here, you were looking for a drink?” She popped the fridge open and pulled out a small bottle, then rotated it so the clear liquid inside swirled. She winked at him, and then opened the bottle and poured a couple fingers-worth of it into the bottom of a tall tumbler, then topped it off with fruit punch from the carafe. She handed Prompto the glass. “There you go. Enjoy!”

“Th… thanks!” Prompto said, and took a sip. He already knew he liked the fruit punch, with its tangy sweetness -- and the added fire of the vodka burned his throat and made him blink. 

Lillian left him alone in the kitchen then, and he sipped the drink and listened to the chatter surrounding the game, and soon he could feel the vodka working its magic -- but in this case, it mostly left him feeling drained and sad. 

He finished off the glass and set it by the sink, then peeked into the family room. The light of the lamps gave everything a warm glow to the faces of Ignis’s family and friends, happy and enjoying each others’ company. The swell of chatter around the game ebbed and flowed; and the murmur of conversation around it sounded comfortable and content.

Prompto had never felt so much like he didn’t belong. 

It might have been the alcohol talking, but he could feel the burn in his eyes from tears he didn’t want to shed -- especially not here, where it would dampen the festive mood -- so he slipped up the stairs to the green room and lay on the bed, curled around a pillow. 

He must have dozed off, because he jolted when the door creaked open and Ignis’s voice whispered, “Prompto? There you are. Are you all right?” 

Prompto leaned up on one arm and blearily blinked his eyes in an effort to focus on Ignis’s face. He still couldn’t -- something wonky with his contacts, which he’d stupidly left in. “Yeah,” he croaked. “I just… Selena gave me a drink and I think it went straight to my head.”

“Oh dear,” Ignis said with a chuckle. “Well, you’re probably tired from the drive, too; sleep it off. It’s all right. I’ll be up shortly; I’m a bit fatigued myself.” 

“...’Kay.” 

That wasn’t what he meant to say. He meant to say “don’t let me keep you from visiting” or “I’ll be fine” or something. But Ignis left before he could take it back. So instead, Prompto dragged himself out of bed and to the restroom, if only to get the contacts out of his eyes so he wouldn’t hate himself later. He pulled on his comfortable old T-shirt and sleeping pants and slipped back into the strange bed.

He didn’t think he’d be able to relax in it, but he fell asleep almost immediately -- and only barely stirred later on, when he felt the dip of the bed, and Ignis curling around him and draping an arm over his hip. The gentle puff of Ignis’s breath on his neck soothed him and he dropped off again before he could properly hear the “I love you” he thought he imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarus doesn't hate Prompto, but Prompto can't help seeing his fears everywhere he looks... Perception is a mean beastie.


	11. Feast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a feast is had, and Ignis makes a big mistake...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah, holidays are wrapping up and... you'd think my schedule would open up, but it doesn't look like that will happen soon! But I'm still plugging away at this story, with these two disasters...!

By the time Prompto and Ignis came downstairs the next morning, the house was already bustling. 

Dinner time (i.e. Harvest Feast Time) would be mid-afternoon, to allow for all the cooking. Lillian already had dough for home-baked rolls rising in a giant bowl on the counter. Ignis got right to work, helping his father dress the gigantic chickatrice so it would be ready to go in the oven. Several of the younger children were at the table, dutifully peeling fresh vegetables. 

Everyone already knew what was expected of them, and Prompto immediately felt completely useless. He hovered ineffectually behind everyone, watching over shoulders. At one point, he was roped into cutting everything up for the fresh veggie platter. Soon his cutting board was surrounded by neat stacks of broccoli, cauliflower, carrots and celery, turnips and radishes and all sorts of fresh green things, but when he put the knife down, he felt useless again.

He retreated up the stairs for a quick social break and spent probably more time than he should have in the bathroom, screwing up his courage to rejoin everyone. When he felt almost normal again -- almost ready to face the crowd downstairs and not be overwhelmed -- he started down the stairs.

He stopped about half-way down when he heard a murmur of voices below, somewhere just around the corner at the bottom of the stairs. He couldn’t quite hear the first person -- their voice was too low -- but Ignis’s voice echoed up, clear as day, and almost sounding annoyed: “Well, he’s  _ not _ Gladio, and…” 

Ignis’s voice faded back into the general background chatter, but Prompto had heard enough.

He swallowed against a lump in his throat. He knew he wasn’t Gladio. He wasn’t like Gladio at all. He’d never measure up to that lofty ideal, and everyone knew it -- even Ignis. That feeling that Ignis was  _ settling _ for him -- that Prompto was just entertainment while Ignis waited for something better to come along -- returned in full force.

Prompto sat heavily on the stairs. He wrapped his arms around his knees. He couldn’t go down now, couldn’t face Ignis’s family, knowing that behind their friendly facade they were measuring him against a perfect ideal. That  _ Ignis _ was measuring him -- and probably found him wanting. 

He sat for a long while, his head resting on his knees, and he almost didn’t hear the tentative steps -- but he did, and looked up to see Ignis, coming slowly up the stairs.

“Prompto?” Ignis said. “Is… is something wrong?” 

Prompto shook his head and forced a smile. “Nah, just… just tired already.” 

Ignis gave him a small smile. “I suppose it’s a lot, when you’re used to celebrating alone,” he said, and his tone was gentle. 

Prompto’s chest ached. He wanted it to be real, so badly. For now, though… Now he’d just have to fake it. Not rock the boat; not make a scene, not disturb this precious family moment. Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? 

He got to his feet and clomped down the stairs past Ignis. “I’ll be alright,” he said. “I just… needed a moment.” He didn’t wait to see if Ignis followed; he just mustered all the cheerfulness he could fake and rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs just in time to nearly run into Lillian, who was carrying a stack of cloth napkins. “What can I help with now?” he asked.

Lillian smiled and led him back into the kitchen, where she handed him the fixings for a veggie dip.

The morning went on like that, even once the bird was roasting. There would be a minute or two of down time, but there was a lot to do, and Prompto threw himself into helping so he didn’t have to think about what he’d overheard. 

Chairs had to be pulled out and extra tables set up to accommodate all the company. Games had to be picked up to set the table (Lillian went all out, with the fancy dishes and silverware). Potatoes needed peeling, napkins needed folding… The buzz of excitement increased as the aroma of the roasting chickatrice filled the house.

All the while, Prompto flinched at the casual touches -- hands on his arm, people brushing close into his personal space, all of it without thinking, because the house was so full. More full than he’d ever experienced. He wasn’t used to it, and it just accentuated how out of place he was in this house full of close family and friends.

The bird was pulled out of the oven at precisely 2 in the afternoon, and everyone admired its crisp skin and divine smell. It was set in its place of honor at the main table to rest, while Ignis poured the pan’s drippings off so gravy could be made, and Lillian popped the shaped rolls into the oven for their bake. 

By the time the rolls came out of the oven and everyone sat to eat at last, Prompto’s nerves were drawn tight as a guitar string, thrumming every time someone brushed too close to him or said anything to him at all. He’d already had to retreat to the green room upstairs three more times to be alone for a moment. Now he was wedged at the head table between Ignis and Iris, with Lillian and her husband on Ignis’s other side, and Ignis’s parents across the table. The young nieces and nephews had their own table.

Everything smelled wonderful -- better than anything Prompto could remember. His mouth watered while Ignis’s dad gave a quick thanks to the Astrals for providing, and then everyone tucked in. Food flowed past him in elegant serving dishes, and he sampled something from each (Ignis supplemented what he took, sometimes, with an occasional “You’ll want more of this, it’s delicious”, and Prompto couldn’t refuse.) 

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, everyone pitched in to clean up the feast. It was like a well-oiled machine, and Prompto let himself be swept up in it, too; handed a dish towel, and set to drying things and handing them off to Terran, who was tall enough to put the platters up on the top shelves (“Where they collect dust for most of the year,” he said with a laugh).

Once everything was clean and the extra table put away, the whole clan gathered in the sitting room once again. With a hand on Prompto’s back, Ignis guided him to a comfortable chair and sat next to him. 

Ignis leaned in close, his breath tickling Prompto’s ear. “It’s a family tradition to go around the room and say something about this past year that we’re thankful for,” he whispered. 

“Oh,” Prompto said. He hoped they’d skip him. He wasn’t prepared to bare his heart in front of this room full of strangers, no matter how friendly and accepting they acted. He was the odd one out, it was obvious… and the feeling only grew stronger, sitting here with everyone.

Lillian’s husband Lars stood. “Lillian and I would like to thank all of you for coming,” he said. “It’s good to celebrate with family and friends old and new.” His eyes lingered on Prompto, but quickly moved away. “Alright, let’s get this started! I’m thankful the kids didn’t tear the house down this year!” 

Everyone laughed. 

It proceeded in similar fashion. Some of the “thanks” were funny, some were thoughtful. The children’s were all precious. 

Then it was Clarus’s turn. “I’m so thankful to all of you for your kindness during this… difficult year,” he said. “Iris and I both have appreciated your continued friendship and support. Thank you.” His eyes were wet and his smile shaky, and there were a couple sniffles in the room. The next couple were more subdued. 

The closer it got to Prompto’s turn, the more his leg bounced with nerves. Ignis must have noticed, because he put an arm around his shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. “It’ll be fine,” he murmured.

Prompto nodded -- and then flinched when everyone erupted into cheers at Terran’s “Paid off the last of my student loans”. Then it was Prompto’s turn.

Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

His heart started pounding and he swallowed. “Heh heheheh,” he stammered. “I’m just…” He realized he was wringing his hands. He made himself stop and clenched his hands in his lap. “I’m grateful Ignis puts up with me.” 

That started a round of chuckles. Beside him, Ignis scoffed. “I don’t ‘put up with’ you,” he said. “You’re…” Ignis wrapped an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze, and Prompto felt Ignis’s lips brush his head. The chuckles died down, and then it was Ignis’s turn. 

Prompto felt him take a deep breath. “I’m sure you all know this has been… a dreadful year for me,” Ignis said. “Or rather -- it was, until I met Prompto.” He loosed his arm from Prompto’s shoulders and turned so he was facing him and took Prompto’s hands in his own. “Dearest, our meeting might have been mere chance, but it’s a happenstance I’ve come to cherish.”

Bewildered, Prompto searched Ignis’s face. 

Ignis slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a small box. Prompto’s thoughts abruptly stuttered to a halt. 

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly.

“Prompto,” Ignis said gently. “Would you do me the honor?” Ignis tilted back the lid of the box, and inside… 

A gold band. That… that was a wedding ring.

Ignis couldn’t possibly be proposing.

A collective gasp around the room reminded Prompto that they were far from alone. His eyes darted around the room and saw their combined delight and shock -- but their shock was nothing to  _ his. _ There was nowhere else for his eyes to go, so he looked back at Ignis, whose tender smile held more hope than Prompto could possibly live up to.

The room went silent with expectation, and under their collective eyes, Prompto did the most reasonable thing he could think of. 

He jumped to his feet and bolted for the door.

He fumbled with the latch. Somewhere in the fog of his mind he thought he could hear Ignis’s voice calling his name, but the noise of his panic overrode everything else. He couldn’t breathe; it was too close inside. Then the door finally opened for him and he rushed out into the street. He took several gasping breaths then, tried to calm his pounding heart -- and then he heard the door shut, and someone else’s footsteps behind him.

“Prompto…?”

Prompto whirled around.

“Ignis, how could you… how could you  _ do _ that to me!” There were tears in his eyes; he didn’t want to be crying, but he couldn’t help it.

Ignis looked stunned. “But… I thought--”

“No, I’m not sure you  _ did,” _ Prompto cut in. “You… proposed to me. In front of your  _ whole family.” _

“It was a special moment,” Ignis said. “I wanted to share it with them.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Prompto said, hating how his voice wobbled. 

“Say yes, of course,” Ignis said, and Prompto felt a sudden, unexpected bubble of… of rage. 

He was angry. He’d never been angry at Ignis before, but now he was furious. And scared, and frustrated… and sad.

“What  _ else _ was I supposed to say in front of all those people?” Prompto said, and waved a hand at the house. “You… you had that perfect childhood, with your perfect family, with your perfect holidays… I’ve never had anything like that! And you had a  _ perfect husband  _ already, and  _ he _ had a perfect family too, and… I’m never, ever going to measure up to that.”

Ignis stiffened. “Who said you had to?” 

Prompto froze; he had to think about that one, and truthfully, the only person he’d actually heard that from was himself. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Everyone’s gonna be comparing me to Gladio, and I’m just… nothing like him.”

“I don’t want you to be  _ like Gladio,”  _ Ignis said testily. “I want you to be  _ you. _ The  _ you _ I fell in love with.” 

The word ‘love’ skittered over Prompto’s heart. He really thought he loved Ignis too… but the thought terrified him. It felt like Ignis was the one good thing he’d ever had, but ever since Ignis had come into his life, he always felt as though he was one step away from losing him. 

Maybe he was losing him now.

“Ignis, I…” he started, and took a stuttering breath, ignoring the tracks of tears he could feel on his face. “It’s too much,” he finally said. “It’s too soon. I… I can’t.” 

A panicked series of emotions flashed across Ignis’s face -- but it settled on something stiff and closed. He didn’t say anything at all, but he backed away a step. 

Prompto rubbed at his wet cheeks and turned away, staring sightlessly at the paving stones. “I think I’d better go,” he said. 

Behind him, Prompto heard a shift of cloth -- Ignis, in some gesture, like pushing up his glasses or something silly and mundane like that. He heard Ignis exhale slowly.

He couldn’t look.

“If you’re sure,” Ignis said, his voice tight. “I won’t stop you, if it’s what you want.” 

He _couldn’t look._ If he saw Ignis’s face, he might change his mind. He’d have to go inside and face Ignis’s family, after making such a fool of himself.

He nodded.

“I’ll go get your things,” Ignis said, and his steps moved away, slow and measured. Prompto heard the creak of the front door. He heard it close with a quiet snap. 

He pulled out his phone to price bus tickets back to Insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (don't kill me)


	12. Famine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto makes some big decisions.

Prompto made it back to Insomnia well before Ignis did -- enough time to slip into the apartment above Scientia Floral and box up everything that was his. He left his key to the apartment on the kitchen counter without a note, and locked himself out. Then he went home to his own quiet apartment.

The day they would have driven home together came and went, and Ignis didn’t call. And Prompto told himself he was okay with that; it’s how it should be. Make a clean break. 

He was fine.

* * *

“No, Noct, you can’t kill him,” Prompto said in a bored tone. With the phone tucked between his shoulder and his cheek, he could barely reach the photography books on his top shelf, and this conversation had gone on just long enough. “Look, if I’m going to get everything packed, I’ve gotta--”

“How come I can’t?” The crappy phone signal didn’t disguise Noct’s surly tone.

Prompto sighed. “Because, Noct, it’s not _ his fault.” _

“You say that, but it’s only been a week since you broke up with him and you’re _ moving. _ What did he _ do?” _

Prompto only just kept himself from sighing _ again. _ He didn’t want to talk about it. 

He hadn’t told Noctis about Ignis’s proposal and Prompto’s disastrous reaction to it; he’d just said that their whirlwind romance was over, and then Noctis had taken him out for copious amounts of pizza and ice cream to help him get over it, which is just what Prompto had wanted. Noctis was a good friend like that.

If Noctis knew the details, Prompto was sure he’d just want to talk _ more. _ But Prompto didn’t want him killing Ignis, either. Ignis didn’t deserve that.

“Look,” Prompto said at last. “I’m getting a serious crick in my neck; I can’t talk anymore. I’ve got books to pack.”

“I’ll come help you.” 

“No, Noct, you don’t need to--” 

The line disconnected. Prompto sighed and slipped his phone back into his pocket, then steadied the heavy stack of books (only three, but man, photography books were _ heavy) _ and climbed off his step stool so he could go through them. 

He couldn’t take everything with him, anyway… shipping to Altissia was pricy. 

He had emptied the whole shelf and was sorting the books into what he would keep and what he would sell when the doorbell rang. As soon as Prompto opened the door, Noctis pushed past him, bags of take-out in hand, and stalked to the kitchen to set them on the table. 

“Got your favorite from that ramen place,” Noctis said, and then looked around at the stacks of books all over the floor. “You’re really serious about this,” he said. 

“Well… yeah,” Prompto said. He stepped through the stacks and pulled one out -- one of his favorite photographers, who’d made a book of cat photos. Actually, he was pretty sure Noctis had given this one to him. “You want this? I can’t take them all with me.” 

Noctis took it from his hands and thumbed through it, scowling. Then he met Prompto’s eyes. “You really want to go to Altissia?” 

“Sure I do,” Prompto said, turning away. “I mean, it’s a photographer’s dream, right? And I have a place to stay that’s actually, you know, _ mine _and all, I won’t have to rent…” 

“Why not sell it?” Noctis said. “I checked; it’s worth a ton. You could probably live off that for years before you’d even need to get a job. Or better yet, sell it AND work. Weskham’s always looking for interns. You could--” 

“I don’t wanna be an intern, Noct,” Prompto said. “Do you want the book or not?” 

“... Sure.” 

Noctis set the book on the edge of the table, and then moved the bags of take-out to the kitchen counter. 

Prompto kept looking through his stacks. “I was thinking I could take a few months and put together a set, like, ‘Moods of Altissia’, or something like that, and try to get a show at some photo gallery somewhere… Maybe I’ll have better luck selling prints than doing portraits...” his voice trailed off when he realized Noctis was just staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“You’re just running away,” Noctis said. “It’s not going to make anything better.” 

Anger flared, hot and unexpected. Prompto shoved it down. He didn’t need to justify himself to Noctis. He exhaled, long and slow, and picked up a stack of books he knew he wasn’t going to keep and dumped them into a box. He forced his voice to be calm. “I’m not running away,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” 

“I’m taking care of things I should have taken care of months ago.” Prompto picked up an empty box and wrote “photography books” on the side with a Sharpie. He packed a stack of books that he couldn’t part with and folded the flaps of the box together to close the box. “I needed to do something about my parents’ condo in Altissia, and… I can take care of it by living in it. Okay?”

“I guess. But Altissia’s expensive.” 

Prompto ground his teeth together and took another deep breath. “That ramen’s gonna get cold,” he said.

They ate, then, and Noctis didn’t ask too many more annoying questions. Prompto figured he got tired of the non-answers he was getting. Which was okay, because Prompto didn’t have anything to say. 

Noctis took the cat book and another book with some great photos of some of his favorite fishing spots. He hesitated at the door. “If you need any more help packing, I can help… but--”

“I know what I’m doing, Noct,” Prompto said.

“I didn’t say you didn’t.” Noctis shrugged. “You’ve got to make your own choices. I just… You know, if you can’t afford _ this _ place, and you decide Altissia’s not for you, I’ve got an extra room.”

Prompto laughed -- genuine and bright this time. “Thanks, buddy,” he said softly. “But I think I’ve gotta do this.” 

“If you say so,” Noctis said, radiating doubt. Then he walked out and closed the door behind him. 

Prompto let out a breath. 

He looked mournfully around the apartment, at the scattered boxes. One was dedicated to vases. Because he had a ton, thanks to Ignis showering him with roses that one day, and he'd never gotten around to returning them.

He wondered if Ignis wanted them back. It wasn't like a florist would require customers to return the vases… would they?

He shook himself. No. He wasn't going to show up on Ignis's doorstep with a stupid question like that. They'd go to Goodwill with everything else he didn't need. Like… 

Prompto went and rummaged in the back of his linen closet and pulled out Jeffrey's empty fishbowl. He pursed his lips. He'd held onto it, thinking he'd find another fish buddy to keep him company, but then he'd found Ignis. And now, looking at the empty bowl... 

It was crazy, that a stupid thing like this could carry so much emotional baggage with it. What was it that Kondo woman said? If it doesn't spark joy…? Whatever this bowl sparked was so far removed from joy it might as well be on the far side of the moon. 

Prompto stomped back into the living room and thrust the bowl so firmly into the box of vases that one of them shattered. Well, good riddance.

He had two weeks. His ticket to Altissia was sitting on his dresser; he just needed to settle everything here, and then he could leave it behind. He could start new. He could find a place for himself, experience new things, take advantage of the opportunities his parents had left him in their will.

He could leave behind this tiny, too-expensive apartment, and this city with all its reminders of everything he didn’t have. He’d never been to Altissia before. His parents had never taken him there. In Altissia, Prompto wouldn’t have to avoid any streets because of bad memories. 

Except, if he was really honest with himself, they weren’t bad memories. They were great. 

Prompto sat heavily on his sofa.

He hadn’t tried to contact Ignis since he’d embarrassed himself so badly at the Harvest Feast a week ago. He didn’t want to confirm that Ignis hated him. He’d avoided the flower shop after getting his things out of the apartment, and hadn’t gone near anyplace he knew Ignis was likely to go. 

Prompto tried to tell himself he’d be fine… but it lasted until he remembered those early mornings, waking to sunlight in Ignis’s apartment with the smell of cooking bacon filling the air. Until he remembered those tender nights, and all the soft touches. 

Even the evenings just sitting on the couch, with someone to lean against. Someone to talk to. Someone who expressed genuine concern for his well-being. He missed it, honestly. He pressed his palms into his burning eyes.

The doorbell rang. 

He stared at the door for a moment. A long moment. Long enough that the bell rang again. 

Prompto stood and walked slowly over. Maybe Noctis thought he’d forgotten something. Prompto couldn’t imagine what. Unless Noctis had decided he had more to say to Prompto about his move to Altissia. In which case, Prompto had some choice things to say. 

He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, saying “Noct, I--!”

He froze.

There on his stoop stood Ignis.

He was smartly-dressed as usual, wearing his standard slacks and button-up. He looked hesitant; uncertain. Both those things felt strange, coming from Ignis. 

His hands held a bouquet full of purple hyacinths and some kind of lily -- asphodel, Prompto thought it was called -- and while Prompto hadn’t had enough time to learn the intricacies of the language of flowers, he knew Ignis. None of his choices for this bouquet would be accidental. 

Prompto should have closed the door, right there. But he didn’t. He just stared.

Ignis shifted his weight and cleared his throat. “Prompto,” he said. “I’m glad I found you at home.”

“Uh,” Prompto said.

Astrals, that was intelligent. 

Ignis’s eyes darted to the side, and then back again. “I won’t ask to come in,” he said. “I just… wanted to apologize to you.” 

“Apologize?” Prompto said. “You? I mean…” And there it was. Yeah, Prompto kind of wanted one, but how could he ask for an apology, when he’d embarrassed Ignis in front of his whole family?

“Yes,” Ignis said. “I… It was inconsiderate of me, not to think of your feelings. I thought… I thought you’d be as happy as I was -- to be together for true, and to build our own family. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about it beforehand -- and I’m sorry I put so much pressure on you, in such a public way. I… hope you’ll forgive me.” He held out the flowers. Prompto stared at them a moment, then he reached out and took them.

Ignis’s eyes brightened, with something like hope. He cleared his throat again. “I’ve missed you,” he said softly. 

“Yeah,” Prompto murmured. “Same.” His heart was pounding in his chest and he was sure all his resolve to leave for Altissia was a heartbeat from dissolving away, if Ignis just… No. No, he couldn’t wish that. Ignis wouldn’t want him back -- and he’d never be able to show his face to Ignis’s family anyway, so it’s just as well. 

He wasn’t Gladio, he could never be what Gladio was, and he’d have to be fine with that.

“How have you been?” Ignis asked.

“... Fine,” Prompto lied. He was embarrassed, heartbroken, jobless, and almost out of money -- yeah, he was fine all right. But he wasn’t going to say any of that.

Ignis just smiled. But then he looked over Prompto’s shoulder. “You seem… busy.” 

Because of course… there were boxes all over the place, he was emptying his shelves, and the kitchen was looking pretty bare… Prompto glanced back, looked over his living room. It was obvious what was going on here. “Yeah, I, uh.” He turned back--

If Prompto wasn’t mistaken, Ignis’s expression was something close to _ panic. _ Ignis’s eyes darted about the room behind them, taking in everything. “You’re… moving.”

Prompto scratched the back of his head. He ignored the searching way Ignis looked at him. “Yeah, I… My parents left me their condo in Altissia? I’ve gotta do something with it. And since I haven’t had any jobs lately…” Since he wasn’t being paid to photograph Ignis’s major gigs anymore… “I can’t really afford my place, so.” He pumped an arm. “Gotta do something, and I thought… maybe I could…”

“Altissia?” Ignis whispered. 

“... Yeah?” 

“But--” Ignis paused. Then he took a deep breath. “I thought--” He stopped himself again.

Prompto wished he’d just spit it out. 

But Ignis didn’t follow either of those hesitant starts. “When?” he finally asked. 

“I’ve got a ticket for the ferry in a couple weeks,” Prompto said.

“A couple weeks,” Ignis echoed. 

They both fell quiet, and Prompto scuffed a toe on the corner of the welcome mat. 

He looked up when Ignis took a deep breath. “I, er...” Ignis started. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said, too quickly. “I mean… photographer’s dream, Altissia...” He waved a hand. “I’m. Planning an architectural series. I guess. And I won’t have rent ‘cause I’ll have the condo…” He trailed off, unsure of what else to say. 

“Good,” Ignis said softly. “I hope it’s a good experience for you.”

“It should be,” Prompto said, just as softly. 

Something had changed, though; Ignis’s hopeful aura had faded, and instead of confident and eager, he looked defeated and small. But that didn’t seem right. Prompto was probably misreading it.

“Look, I, ah,” Prompto said. “I’m. You…” _ You want to get lunch? Maybe ask me not to leave? _

But Prompto couldn’t say either of those things, and the silence stretched between them.

Ignis broke it first. “I suppose I had better return to the shop. I told Iris I wouldn’t be long.” 

Prompto let that be true. He rejected the possibility that Ignis might have wanted this visit to go on longer. “Thanks for coming by,” he said. Not ‘stay longer’. This was better. This was what Ignis would want, anyway.

Ignis gave him a tight nod and a stiff smile. “I hope this venture is everything you’re looking for,” he said. Then, to Prompto’s surprise, he added, “Do keep in touch, won’t you?”

Prompto swallowed, trying to still his heart. He couldn’t take much more of this. “If you want me to,” he managed. 

“I do.” The tentative smile was a little more broad now. “I do.” Ignis’s hand twitched, but he didn’t reach out. He turned and walked away without looking back.

And Prompto let him. 

He let him, and he closed the door, and he turned to his kitchen. He pulled one of the unbroken vases from the Goodwill box and filled it with water, and soon he had purple hyacinths and asphodel in a vase on his counter, and he sat on his couch, put his face in his hands, and sobbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things aren't getting better right away, but _they will,_ I promise!


	13. Don't Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto makes a fresh start... and doesn't second-guess himself. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigosh, the last couple months have been WILD but here I am, still plugging along...! Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I didn't _really_ mean to leave it for that long; life's just been crazy, and the writing fought me! But we're making some forward motion now.

Ignis’s visit left Prompto pretty shaken. 

Ignis had come to apologize. He’d given the exact apology Prompto had needed. He’d been upset that Prompto was leaving. He’d asked Prompto to keep in touch. It was… It was so much. 

It was  _ so much, _ and maybe Noctis was right… maybe he  _ was _ just running away. 

Prompto moped around for the rest of the day, mulling over his feelings. He berated himself that he was getting behind on the packing -- that the shipping guys would arrive and he wouldn’t have everything ready for them -- but he couldn’t stop thinking about Ignis’s look of panic, his air of defeat. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about how amazing Ignis was… and how  _ un _ -amazing  _ he _ was, in return. That was the crux of it, really. Prompto was broken. He had no idea what to do with a family, how to take affection. The last thing he wanted was for his shortcomings to become Ignis’s problem. And he’d done that, hadn’t he.

Ignis’s apology bouquet mocked him from its vase on the counter and he pointedly ignored it while he packed up more of his things. 

Noctis came the next day to help again, and as soon as he saw the vase of flowers he froze and stared at it, then raised an eyebrow at Prompto. Prompto just shrugged and kept working, because he didn’t have anything to say.

* * *

Despite his moping, Prompto still managed to get everything packed and ready to go early, and he had the shippers come pick up the boxes to be delivered the day of his arrival in Altissia. He sold off a lot of his furniture, since the executors said the condo was fully-furnished. Then he cleared out the apartment, turned in his key, and went to stay at Noct’s for the remainder of the week. 

Noct’s apartment was big enough for, like, ten roommates. Prompto had a mere handful of days to spend there playing video games and eating whatever takeout food Noctis ordered, and he was going to take full advantage. He totally wasn’t wallowing in self-pity.  _ He wasn’t. _

He tried to ignore the way Noctis watched him. Every conversation was casual and full of their regular in-jokes and everything, but Prompto knew his heart wasn’t always in it, and he caught Noct’s considering gaze more than once. 

So he wasn’t surprised at all, on the second night, just after they sat down to pizza and loaded up Castlevania to stream, when Noctis cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said. “You’ve. Like. Been through a lot. You talked to anyone about it?” 

Prompto squinted at him. “I talk to you all the time, dork,” he said, and punched Noct’s shoulder.

“No, I mean…” Noctis sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “You seen a therapist?” 

Prompto rolled his eyes. “Noct, I can’t afford my apartment; you think I can see a shrink?”

Noctis scowled at him, then shrugged. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I mean, moving to Altissia seems… pretty drastic.” 

Prompto gave a sharp nod. “I’ve thought this through, Noct,” he said. “Really, I have. I can’t afford my apartment here, anyway, and I’ve got this place just sitting over there. It was either move over there or sell it… and I may not get another chance like this. It could be my big break.” 

Noctis shrugged. “You know best, I guess,” he said, and let it drop. 

Thank the Astrals. 

Prompto had made his decision, and he didn’t want to second-guess himself. Not now.

* * *

Not  _ wanting _ to second-guess himself didn’t mean that he didn’t  _ actually _ do it. Because he totally did, about once every hour. Now that Noctis had mentioned  _ therapy, _ Prompto second-guessed himself even more. Because, much as it irritated him, Prompto had to admit that Noctis was probably right. 

Prompto's parents had never really been there. They'd made sure he had a roof over his head, but even he could see he was dealing with abandonment issues. And it's very likely he just didn't know how to handle someone showing him genuine affection.

He didn’t have time or money to get therapy  _ now, _ but he thought maybe that as soon as he was  _ in Altissia _ and  _ living in his dead parents’ condo, _ he probably should. Prompto couldn’t change how his parents had raised him. (How they’d abandoned him.) And maybe it was too late to fix what he’d had with Ignis, but it wasn’t too late to fix himself.

And maybe Altissia wouldn’t be the golden opportunity he hoped… but he’d never know unless he went over there and made the best of it. If it all went pear-shaped, he could always come back to Insomnia and room with Noctis. Failing in Altissia wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Looking at it like  _ that _ made it seem like not such a bad idea, after all.

* * *

The evening before he was supposed to leave, Prompto sat on Noct’s guest bed with his phone cradled in his lap. He hadn’t heard from Ignis since the night he’d brought over that apology bouquet… but he’d said ‘stay in touch.’ In some back part of his brain, Prompto thought maybe that wasn’t such a hot idea, but he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving without saying anything.

He didn’t like the thought of reaching out first, but he was unhappy with how things had ended. He wondered if Ignis hated him. 

_ No… _ He shook his head. Ignis had apologized. Genuinely. And he’d looked panicked when he’d realized Prompto was leaving. That wasn’t something he’d feel if he hated Prompto.

Maybe Ignis was just letting him have his space. That was pretty thoughtful of him. Honestly, Ignis was usually thoughtful; that was one of the things Prompto lo…  _ loved… _ most about him. When he wasn’t too excited to share his major life events with all his family, Ignis was pretty damn thoughtful.

… He’d do it.

Prompto typed a lot of false starts before he had something maybe sort of acceptable. When he finally sent it, it was something like “the ferry leaves in the morning; I’m looking forward to the adventure; I’ll grab an Ebony in your honor”. Nice, neutral, no pining… just perfectly easy and casual.

He plugged the phone in to charge and left it on the nightstand, and then set about getting ready for bed. He pulled on his t-shirt and sleeping pants and headed for the ensuite  _ (a guest bedroom with an ensuite, Sweet Six in a Tree, Noct) _ to brush his teeth. While he was in there, his phone pinged. 

When he thumbed the screen open, he saw that Ignis had replied with a photo of a single anemone flower. 

* * *

Altissia was amazing. 

As soon as the ferry rounded the approach into the bay, Prompto was  _ there, _ gripping the handrail, gawking like he’d never gawked at anything before. The soaring arches, the crenellations, the colors… Every sight, sound, and smell was utterly stunning in a blow-you-away sense. Insomnia might be big, but Altissia was  _ exquisite _ .

It just… wasn’t going to be so much fun alone. 

But Prompto wasn’t thinking about that. Nope, he wasn’t worrying about being alone, nope nope. He wasn’t thinking about how much Ignis would like this place, how nice it would be to walk along the terraces eating gelato, no way. 

As soon as he disembarked, Prompto met with his parents’ executors, and took possession of the condo. It was nicely situated, and had an incredible view of the harbor. His parents had shown him pictures of it, but they’d purchased the place after they’d stopped taking him with them on trips, so he’d never actually been there before. He wasn’t about to feel bad about it, because it was  _ his _ now, to enjoy however he wanted.

There was a little café on street level, and as soon as he’d signed off on the delivery of his things, Prompto headed down there for a cup of coffee. It was enough out of the touristy areas that their prices weren’t all that bad, and the coffee was good.

As he took his first sip, Prompto thought, ‘Ignis would  _ love _ this place…’ 

Okay, yeah… he couldn’t avoid that thought anymore. Because it was true. 

He snapped a picture of his coffee cup, with the pier and bay beyond, and the late afternoon sun painting everything golden. Then, because Ignis  _ had _ asked him to stay in touch, he texted the image to Ignis without any words, and totally didn’t think about it (or check his phone every five minutes) for the rest of the night, while he unpacked his boxes.  _ Totally didn’t. _

The next morning, as Prompto ate cold cereal and scrolled through employment listings, his phone pinged. He glanced… and died a little when he saw Ignis’s name on the incoming message. 

He thumbed the screen, and it opened to a striking bouquet -- the center flower kind of like a daisy but bright orange all over, and surrounded by green spears covered with tiny purple blooms. Prompto traced the side of his phone with a finger and didn’t sigh. He didn’t. He guessed that this was Ignis’s substitute for not being able to send him flowers in person… he was just. Texting pictures of them instead. 

That was so like him.

* * *

Prompto had enough money from the sale of his furniture to live on for a couple months, but when he saw a job listing for a camera shop, he applied right away. It wasn’t as glamorous as working for a photo studio, but he needed something with regular pay  _ right now  _ or he was going to have trouble. The retail life wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. The shop opened at 10 and closed at dinner time; it would give him plenty of time in the mornings and evenings to work on his personal projects.

In his first week, Prompto made it a habit to go out in the morning and evening, during the first and last hours when the sun was just above the horizon, to capture that golden light. He quickly amassed a little collection of photos that, truth to tell, he was pretty proud of. He spent each evening at his kitchen table, eating instant ramen while he uploaded his new shots from his camera to his online portfolio.

And each evening he selected the best one to send to Ignis.

Every morning, Ignis replied with a photo of flowers. 

One day it was pink carnellias; another, white tulips; yet another, variegated dahlias. Ignis’s shots weren’t particularly artistic or well-lit, but the bouquets were all exquisit -- not that Prompto expected anything different.

He didn’t think much of it. (It was normal, right? He was texting pics to Ignis, too, so Ignis was just reciprocating, right?) But then he had his video chat with Noctis at the end of the week. 

Prompto propped his laptop up on an ancient TV tray next to the recliner he’d adopted as his gaming chair. Noctis answered almost as soon as he dialed, and they both settled in for a long chat over a long-distance game of ChocoKarts.

Well into their third match, Noctis asked, “You heard anything at all from that guy?” He lounged back in his computer chair with his game controller in hand. 

“Ignis,” Prompto murmured, fiddling with his own controller.

“Huh?” Noctis said.

“His name’s Ignis,” Prompto said a little louder. “You know that.”

"... 'Kay. You heard anything from  _ Ignis?" _

"We've been sending pictures back and forth."

“Wait, what?” Noctis sat up straight, and his attention was suddenly on Prompto instead of his game. His kart promptly ran into a wall, but he didn’t notice. “He’s replying to you?” 

Prompto chuckled nervously, lowering his own controller. “Sort of. I mean, we aren’t talking. He hasn’t said anything. We’re just. Sending pictures back and forth.”

“I thought you guys broke things off.”

Prompto shrugged. “He apologized, and then I… Well, I texted before I left, and sent him a pic when I got here and he just… texted a picture of a flower back. And then we just kept it up.”

“Lemme see,” Noctis said, and the image on Prompto’s screen shifted as Noctis set his controller down and pulled his laptop closer. 

“Uh, okay,” Prompto said. He took a series of screenshots and texted them over. 

Noct’s “victory fanfare” ping echoed over Prompto’s tinny speakers, and Noctis squinted at his phone as he scrolled through the shots. His eyebrows knit together, then shot up. He peered up at Prompto through his hanging hair. “I thought you said you guys weren’t talking. If you think he’s not telling you things with these flowers--” 

“Dude, he’s a florist. He makes bouquets all the time, just like I take photos of everything all the time. I mean… sending him photos is, like, easier than…” Actually talking to him, he didn’t say.

“Uh huh, yeah,” Noctis said sarcastically, nodding his head. “You can go on believing that all you like, but you remember when he gave you all those lavender roses?”

“Uh,  _ yeah, _ my apartment was full to the rafters. I can’t  _ not _ remember that.” 

“You remember what I said they mean?” 

Prompto  _ did _ remember, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He looked away.

Noctis turned the phone to face the screen, and scrolled down with his thumb. “D’you want me to tell you what these all--”

_ “No, _ Noct, I don’t wanna know,” Prompto lied. 

Noctis set the phone down and just stared at Prompto for a moment. Then he shrugged. “‘Kay,” he said. “Seriously, I think when Shivatide comes around, I’m gonna get you a floriography book. You need one.” He steepled his fingers.

Prompto laughed. “A what?” 

“Floriography. If you keep exchanging pics with Ignis, you’re gonna need it.” 

Prompto leaned back and sighed. “Sorry, Noct, I just…” He shook his head. “I can’t--”

“You’ve gotta figure yourself out,” Noctis said, “but I’m pretty sure when you’re all sorted…” He lifted his phone and waved the pictures of Ignis’s flowers at the screen. “He still seems interested.”

Nope, Prompto wasn’t thinking about that. Not one bit. “Thanks, Noct, but… I mean. I think I completely ruined my chances, I messed up so bad. I’m not counting on anything happening there.” 

“Whatever you say,” Noctis said, with cheerful doubt.

Thankfully, he let it drop, and they went back to their idling game, where their karts had puffed away motionless, waiting for them to come back while the other sprites had lapped them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used [this flower meanings chart](https://www.gouniqueandbeyondgiftgiving-ideas.com/flower-meanings-chart-2.html), since my own floriography is kinda rusty-relying-on-the-internet… XD 
> 
> Anemone -- parting  
calendula + lavender heather -- sorrow  
Camellia (pink) -- longing  
White tulip -- forgiveness, lost love  
Variegated dahlia -- i think of you constantly


	14. Picking Up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto finds himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, sorry for the long wait! This chapter fought me a lot. But the nice thing about being out of work, and about having a lot more time to think, is that your brain gets more time to work out thorny storytelling problems. So here we are! 
> 
> I hope you're staying home and staying healthy!

Six months was _ nothing _, Prompto decided. 

That’s how long it took for his work to start taking off; and a lot of him thought it should have taken longer. It started small, with acceptances into a couple minor juried shows and competitions; but after one of the show openings, the Magpie’s Nest Gallery -- a hole-in-the-wall place in Altissia’s touristy sector -- contacted him about representation.

And it turned out people liked his stuff. Who knew?

When he called himself lucky, his boss at the photo shop -- a portly man named Vyv -- chewed him out. “You’ve put a lot of hard work in, kid,” he said. “It’s not luck if you worked for it!”

Prompto laughed it off, but he knew better. This sort of profession relied a lot on luck, no matter what Vyv said.

All the same, Vyv was super-impressed with him, and even had him put some of his photos up in the shop. Prompto traded things out every week or so, to keep it current; and their regulars _ noticed. _ And _ asked about them. _ Vyv even pestered him into getting some business cards with his website and stuff, so he could give them out to interested customers. Each card had one of his photos on the reverse -- and people liked them so much, he ran out of the first 100 he ordered too fast, and had to get more.

Prompto didn’t text Ignis about his acceptances. He didn’t want to intrude with that kind of noise. In fact, he wasn’t thinking much about Ignis or his flowers. He wasn’t.

Noctis, true to his word, had mailed his Shivatide gift to Prompto: a glorious hardbound copy of History of the Language of Flowers, which Prompto promptly shelved and didn’t look at again. Yeah, Ignis was sending him messages, sure, but the thought just stressed him out and _ he didn’t want to know. _

He kept sending a picture a day… for a while. But things got busy. 

The pieces Prompto entered in the juried shows sold, and the Magpie’s Nest Gallery had to ask him for more inventory when everything he gave them sold in a couple weeks. And he was taking more pics than ever. 

It was nice! 

It also got harder and harder to pick a favorite to send to Ignis every evening; partly because Altissia and its environs were just. So much. 

Sometimes Prompto would get home late and fall into bed exhausted without sending anything. Every day became every other day, and then once a week. When he did send one, Ignis always sent a photo of an exquisite bouquet in reply. But now there were long stretches of silence.

Noctis never mentioned seeing a therapist again, but he didn’t have to. Since the first time he'd brought it up, it had been on Prompto’s mind. As soon as he had enough pulled together (a couple sales at his first show was plenty) he booked an appointment. 

Prompto walked out of the therapist’s office feeling like he’d been flayed, all his private pains laid bare. It was agonizing, but it was also a relief. Kinda like pulling a hangnail; it hurt, but getting it all out was good. It was good to have someone listen to all the stuff he’d been through, no judgement, and help him work through those feelings. 

He even, against his better judgement, told Noctis that he was right, the next time they had their video chat.

“‘Bout what?” Noctis said, his tone sounding bored and distracted. 

“Talking to someone,” Prompto said. “It was good.”

“‘Course I was right. See? I’m right about a lot of things.”

Prompto couldn’t help but agree.

* * *

Altissia agreed with him, it turned out. Now that he had words for all the feelings he had and things he’d been through, he was more comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t even mind that he was staying in his dead parents’ condo, that they’d never brought him to while they were alive. It’s just how things were. He had a place to live, and that was a blessing, really.

He made friends, too. 

Vyv introduced him to Dino, a journalist who happened to also be a regular at the cafe downstairs from Prompto’s condo. Dino became a regular customer, coming to Prompto for pictures of this or that for his stories. They’d meet up for breakfast a lot -- mostly to talk about a new story or some other gig Dino wanted his help with. Dino was friendly, and it was good to have someone to talk to.

Prompto met Aranea on his own; a steel-blonde woman who ran a used bookstore that Prompto took too many pictures of. He met her when she came out to tell him to shove off, thinking he was casing the joint. She softened up when he nervously showed her his portfolio. She liked his work enough that she offered to buy one of his shots of her store. After that, he became a regular at the bookshop, too.

Prompto’s daily photo excursions were solely about his art now. He realized one day, with surprise, that he wasn’t wondering anymore what Ignis would think about this alcove or that cornice or about the light hitting the marble in _ just that way. _ He was only thinking about the next shot, and what he needed for this show or that gallery.

It was nice.

He spent his day job helping the tourists that made up most of their clientele, and found himself on a first-name basis with the professional photographers that were regulars. He had neither the time nor the desire anymore to mope and think about his past mistakes. 

And he was happy.

* * *

Prompto woke early one late-spring morning to a text from Noct that simply said “you should check this out” with a link. 

His first thought was what the heck was Noctis doing up at this hour -- but then he realized that Noctis 1) was in a different time zone and 2) probably hadn't gone to bed yet.

The link took Prompto to a call for entries for the Summer Salon and Gala at The Grande Insomnian -- the premier art gallery in Insomnia. It was prestigious and it was huge and it was impossible. Prompto's first impulse was to ignore it, but after he'd gotten up and was staring blearily at himself in the mirror while he brushed his teeth, he couldn’t help but think… it wouldn’t hurt to try, at least. 

There wasn’t anything to stop him, really. There wasn’t an entry fee or anything, and. And. He kind of missed Insomnia. He was in a much better financial place, and if he got in, it would give him an excuse to visit. Maybe Noct would let him stay at his place.

Maybe. Maybe he’d. 

_ No. _

He shuddered. He hadn’t thought that way about Ignis in a long time. It had been… Astrals, it had been six months since he’d seen Ignis. And when was the last time he’d sent Ignis a photo? When had Ignis last sent him a picture of flowers? He couldn’t even remember.

He acknowledged his fleeting hope and let it go, like his therapist had recommended… and then he spat in the sink and rinsed out his toothbrush and slumped back into his room to get dressed. 

Later, Prompto pulled his laptop close while he ate a breakfast of toast and eggs, and he submitted a couple of his best shots with his application. Then he texted Noct a quick “thanks for looking out for me buddy” -- and completely didn’t think about it again, or every five minutes for the next two weeks. Completely.

He was expecting a standard rejection. This show was super competitive, even for industry professionals -- and Prompto was an “emerging artist” at best, no matter _ how _ well his first few months had gone.

So it came as an utter shock, a month later, when he got the notice that he was accepted. 

He shot off a text to Noctis right away, before he could stop himself.

Then he sat on his floor and kind of died a little. 

He was glad his downstairs neighbors worked all day, so they couldn’t hear his excited squealing.

* * *

Prompto took extra care with his submissions. They were both photos of Altissia at nightfall, with the deep blue sky contrasting the bright, orange-lit streets and architecture. He had them printed a good three feet by four feet for the impact, and then had them framed and packed up so they could travel safely. 

Prompto had to ship his prints ahead, which was just fine with him; in no way did he want to wrangle huge shipping crates through the ferry. That meant his hands were mostly free (just one carry-on bag slung over his shoulder) when Noctis spotted him as soon as he disembarked and greeted him with a full-on body hug. Prompto staggered under the sudden weight and let out an “ooof!”

“Glad you’re back,” Noctis said, as he pulled away. He was smiling. “It’ll be nice to play games in the same room for a change.” 

“You know it,” Prompto said with a grin, and punched Noct’s shoulder. 

“Had to clean out my spare room for you, I hope you appreciate it,” Noctis said. He turned and started walking back through the crowd to find the parking, and Prompto followed.

“Wow, you didn't have to do that for me,” he said, trying to imagine Noctis cleaning anything.

“Yeah, I kinda did,” Noctis said. “It’s your first visit in six months; gotta help you feel at home.”

“Thanks, dude,” Prompto said softly.

“It's nothing,” Noctis said with a shrug.

“No really… Thanks.”

Noctis turned and looked at him then, and cracked a small smile. “You're welcome.”

* * *

Insomnia was just as Prompto remembered it. Noct’s driver steered them through the insane traffic with deceptive ease and dropped them off in front of Noct’s towering apartment building in what Prompto suspected was record time. It took them no time at all to settle Prompto in Noct’s spacious guest room. Then Noctis ordered Chinese delivery for them and they settled down in front of Noct’s huge TV for games.

The show opening was the next evening, and Prompto had a whole day to unwind from travel, and he took advantage of it -- even trying to sleep in, since Noctis wasn’t about to wake up early for him. His internal alarm clock still woke him up at insane-o’clock, because it didn’t recognize the time change, but Prompto still tried to roll over and get more sleep… he’d need the energy that evening at the show opening.

By afternoon, he was glad he’d had the extra rest. 

He’d brought a suit to wear, but Noctis sneered at it. While Prompto gelled up his hair, Noctis rummaged about in his closet for “something better”. Prompto just shrugged at him and let him fuss. Prompto had never been much of a fashionista, but with Noct’s family business what it was, he had enough fancy outfits to last Prompto a lifetime. 

“Gotta have something new for every event,” Noctis grumbled. “I end up just wearing them once, but it never felt right. I’d love someone else to get some use out of them.”

So Prompto found himself gadded up in a sleek pin-stripe suit, with a powder-blue button-up and a darker dusty-blue bowtie and suspenders that matched the coat and slacks. 

Noctis whistled at him when he came out of the guest room. “You clean up good,” he said. 

Prompto punched his shoulder. Softly. “Thanks a heap, dude,” he whined. 

“Should I call my make-up artist?”

“No, Noct, it’s just a show opening, I don't need makeup.”

“Not just a show opening,” Noctis countered. “It’s a _ gala.” _

An opening gala, yes -- with a fancy dinner, and dancing. And it was bigger than anything Prompto had ever attended before. He wasn’t sure what to expect -- and he’d asked Noct to fill in as his plus-one. 

Noctis wore all black -- suit, shirt, bowtie; complete with a silver-pinstripe vest, and when Prompto saw him he groaned. “Noct, this is too much.”

“No it’s not,” Noctis said. “I’ve been to this before a couple times. Some of the ladies wear ball gowns.”

“Ball… gowns…?” 

“You don’t realize how big a deal this is, do you,” Noctis said, and straightened Prompto’s bowtie for him. 

Prompto groaned. “What did I get myself into?”

“Nothing you don’t deserve,” Noctis said, patting his shoulder. “Your photos are great, I swear. You earned this.”

Prompto couldn’t argue with him anymore, so he just let Noctis lead him downstairs to where the car waited, and Noct’s driver took them straight to the venue. 

Prompto knew he was in for it as soon as the Grande Insomnian came into view. The building itself was a century old mission-style building, done up in white stucco, with arched windows and a cobblestone entrance. There were spotlights, and guards at the heavy oak door to check their invitations and everything. He was given a name tag with an “Artist” badge underneath it, and Noctis helped him pin it to his lapel, and flattened it out with his palm. 

“There,” Noctis said. “All set.”

And then they went in. 

Prompto was immediately overwhelmed. It wasn’t just the lighting, the draping decor in the entryway, or even the gaudy finery other attendees were wearing (Noctis was right; there _ were _ people in ball gowns)... It was how people treated _him,_ like he was a celebrity. As soon as they saw his artist tag, they fawned over him and asked about his work, and wanted to see. He hadn’t even gone in far enough to find his photos so he had no idea yet; he just made some vague answers, and wished absently that he'd thought to bring some of his business cards.

After the first couple times he was approached, Noctis tugged at his arm. “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go find your stuff before they serve dinner. Then when people ask, you’ll know.”

Prompto followed in a daze. As they delved deeper into the labyrinthine galleries, something else drew his notice. All the other art was _ amazing. _His eyes popped as he passed masterpiece after masterpiece, following in Noct's wake, and a feeling grew in his chest… Not a good feeling. it was kind of like dread, he decided. Dread that next to all these other amazing works, his would be exposed as the drivel they were. 

He shuddered, and tried to shed the feeling by examining the floral arrangements instead. Because there were many. 

Each room seemed to have its own theme in flowers, with heavy plinths in each corner, supporting arrangements overflowing with cascades of vines and trailing flowers -- wisteria in one room, lobelia in another, and on and on -- and the flowers seemed to have been chosen to complement the art. It was all masterfully done -- and Prompto had watched Ignis work enough to know. 

They turned a corner into a smaller chamber near the back, and there were his photos. Both of them side by side, and framed with arrangements of baby’s breath, birds of paradise, and periwinkle. The other walls held more art, but Prompto only had eyes for his own, and for the flowers that complemented them. 

He felt a nudge against his shoulder. “Wow, Prompto,” Noctis breathed. “You really outdid yourself. Those look great.” 

Prompto remembered to breathe, and smiled. “Thanks, dude,” he said. “I just… there’s so much amazing stuff here, I can’t… quite believe I did it.” 

“The flowers are pretty amazing, too,” Noctis said. 

“Mmm,” Prompto answered distantly.

“C’mon,” Noctis said. “Let’s go find our place for dinner.” 

Their invitations actually had a table number on them, and they made their way through the tables set out in the garden terrace. Dinner was the fanciest Prompto had ever had; three courses, with a chocolate mousse dessert. Noctis laughed at him when he took a bite of the tender grilled chicken and _ moaned -- _ but he couldn’t help it; it was so tender and tasty! 

After dinner, everyone was invited inside to a ballroom area -- lined with art, of course -- where a live jazz band played tunes. Prompto didn’t really feel like dancing, and Noctis was only too glad to oblige him. Instead, they stopped by the bar to pick up flutes of champagne and made their way through all the galleries slowly, sipping their drinks and appreciating all the amazing works of art. They picked up Prompto’s copy of the exhibit catalogue, with its profiles of all the artists, and prints of all the art. He went to tuck it under his arm, but Noctis nabbed it to flip through it. Then they wound their way back to the room where Prompto’s prints hung, moving through the press of people. 

By now the champagne had given him a pleasant buzz, and he wasn’t quite as worried about how his pieces looked in comparison to the other art in the room; he was just glad to be there. He and Noctis left their empty flutes on a serving tray in a corner as they entered the room his photos hung in. 

This part of the gallery was mostly empty; most of the other attendees were watching the jazz band or dancing, or were in the larger gallery halls. But there was a cluster of people in the room, wandering about slowly, and Prompto was only partly paying attention as Noctis recited from the catalogue the best-of-show and runners-up. (Prompto wasn’t one of them, but he hadn’t expected to be.) 

Prompto hung back, not wanting to draw attention to himself, and Noctis, still reading, followed his lead, until the crowd split around them, and Noctis looked up -- and then squinted. “Isn’t that…”

Prompto looked where Noctis was looking. Someone was inspecting his photos. Someone with a remarkably familiar silhouette. Prompto was still trying to puzzle it out, when he felt Noctis stiffen beside him. Then Noctis thrust the catalogue at him and said, “I’ll… be right back.” Then he was almost sprinting away. 

“Noct, where are you--” Prompto said, starting to follow, but then he heard his name.

He heard his name spoken by a voice he’d never expected to hear again. 

He slowly turned, and. And there.

There, standing in front of his two views of Altissia at nightfall, was Ignis.


	15. Audience with the King of Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance run-in allows Prompto to reconnect with Ignis. For the good? Maybe?

For several moments, Prompto couldn’t move. He locked eyes with his one-time boyfriend and felt his mouth gape open. The sudden rush of his hammering heart thundered in his ears. All his feelings rushed back in. They’d never really gone away; he’d just pushed them into a corner, he guessed. He thought he’d moved on.

Ignis broke the silence first. 

“I think congratulations are in order,” he said, and smiled -- a tiny curl of his lips. 

Prompto shuddered. “Huh?” he said. And boy, didn’t _ that _ sound intelligent.

Ignis glanced over his shoulder. “Your photos,” he said. “They’re beautiful.”

_ Just like you, _ Prompto thought, but didn’t say. He couldn’t say that _ now, _ after all he’d done. He’d turned down this gorgeous man’s wedding proposal, had moved away, hadn’t stayed in touch at all… He couldn’t say what he thought, no matter how much he felt it.

Instead, he just blushed, looked away, and said, “Thanks,” and then stood stupidly shuffling his feet.

Ignis turned to look at the photos again. “The lighting is magnificent. And the way you captured the complementary tones of the shadows and evening sunlight is exquisite.”

Prompto wanted to join him -- to stand at his side, thread Ignis’s fingers with his own. He didn’t. He did step closer though. “I didn’t do much,” he said. “I mean… Altissia just looks this good all the time.” 

That got Ignis to chuckle, at least. “Lesser photographers couldn’t have captured it as well as you did,” he said.

“Pffft,” Prompto said with a shrug, staring at the patterned tile floor. “I mean… I’m kinda new at this, I’m not all that great yet.”

“Yet?” Ignis scoffed. “I think you underestimate your talents. But then… you always have.” Then he silently stared at Prompto’s photos again. “I admit, when I got the list of accepted works, I was… thrilled. To see your name there.” 

Prompto peered up at Ignis. “The list?” Why would Ignis have looked for the list for _ this _ particular show?

Ignis saw his confusion. “When they commissioned the flowers,” he explained. “They asked me to make arrangements that complemented the art.”

Prompto blinked. Then he looked at the flowers that framed his photos. “You… You did these?”

Ignis’s smile now was pleased. “I did.” 

“They’ve been amazing! They go so well with the art; Noct and I--” 

“Noctis is with you tonight?” Ignis said with surprise.

Prompto shuffled his feet again. “Well, yeah,” he said. “He’s the one who talked me into submitting stuff to the show. I wouldn’t have if he hadn’t said anything.” 

“Well then. I’m very glad he did.” 

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “I mean… I am, too.” He looked around. “I didn’t realize how… big. This was.” 

“It’s quite the prestigious event,” Ignis said. 

“Yeah,” Prompto said, and shuddered. “It’s a bit… much. I keep expecting someone to tell me I don’t belong here.” 

Ignis shifted. Prompto thought for a moment that he was going to wrap an arm around him, but he didn’t; instead, he adjusted his classes, a nervous tick that Prompto had seen before.

“You belong,” he said quietly. “You’ve been working hard; I’ve seen it.”

“... Not recently,” Prompto said. “Sorry I lost touch. I… got kinda busy.” 

“I figured.”

“... Sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Well, I… didn’t mean to… stop.”

“You…” Ignis sighed. “You had no obligation to keep in touch. Frankly, I’m flattered that you did, for as long as you did. It was kind of you.”

Prompto blushed and ducked his head. 

Ignis shifted again. “Prompto, I--” 

“_ There _ you are,” Noctis called, and Prompto turned to see him approaching with another couple flutes of champagne. “Oh, it’s… Ignis, right?” Noctis smiled. “Imagine seeing _ you _ here.”

And Prompto wanted to stomp on Noct’s toes. He had his Public Smile on, the one that was all politeness, but didn’t reach his eyes. Prompto knew there was some protectiveness behind it, and Prompto knew Noctis was aching to let loose on Ignis, even though he didn’t know the details of their breakup. 

“Noctis,” Ignis said, and smiled too -- genuine, but nervous. “It’s a pleasure to see you.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Noctis said, and handed Prompto one of the flutes. Prompto’s stomach was churning, and he really didn’t want it, but he took it anyway, because he didn’t know what else to do. 

But then Noctis put a fist on his hip and sipped at his flute, eyeing Ignis over the rim of the glass. 

Prompto recognized the challenge in Noct’s stance, and his stomach dropped. The last thing he wanted at an event like this was a stupid, unnecessary showdown. “Noct,” he said, “Ignis was just telling me that he did the flowers for tonight.”

“He did?” Noctis said in exaggerated surprise. 

Prompto tried not to groan. “You knew?” 

“Well, yeah. The program says ‘Special thanks to Scientia Floral’ on the back. See?” He swept a discarded program from the floor without spilling his champagne and pointed out the little tribute there on the back of the program. Prompto was more than a little offended that Noctis hadn't bothered to point it out before, but he didn't get a chance to say anything, because Noctis said, “Didn’t know he’d actually be _ sticking around, _though.” 

“Noct,” Prompto hissed, and then groaned inwardly when he saw Ignis shift uncomfortably. 

“C’mon, Prompto, I’m just giving him a hard time. And you.”

“Could you _ not?” _

Noctis smiled, then, genuine and true. “Go get ‘im,” he said softly, and took himself and his champagne flute into the next room.

Prompto watched him go with perplexed exasperation. He had no idea what that was all about. Noctis _ knew _how Prompto had been pining, back when he’d first moved to Altissia. He knew they’d kept in touch by exchanging photos. He knew he’d sort of moved on… so why the hard time?

“Your friend is very… lively,” Ignis said.

“Yeah,” Prompto said, still watching to make sure Noctis was well and truly leaving them alone. Then he glanced at Ignis. 

And startled, when Ignis was much closer than he’d expected. Ignis was also looking at where Noctis had gone, and his striking profile made Prompto’s heart skip. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about him,” he said. “He’s… kind of. Like. Protective? But I think he likes you. Even after. Um.”

“Mmm,” Ignis said. “He’s a good friend. I’m glad that… Well. I’m glad he encouraged you to submit your work.” He turned his head and met Prompto’s eyes.

Prompto smiled, “Heh heh, yeah,” he said. “I mean… without him, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m glad you came,” Ignis said, and suddenly Prompto could feel every inch of the space between them -- a meter, at most. 

He’d never really seen Ignis in a fancy suit before, and it was impeccably tailored to suit his figure. Ignis’s hair was in a soft pompadour rather than spiked, and a few locks had fallen down over his forehead. It softened the look of his scarred face. He’d chosen a blue agapanthus for his boutonniere, backed with ferns and a sprig of baby’s breath, and the combination was stunning.

Prompto knew his face was flushing, because of the heat in his cheeks. His smile faltered. 

Ignis’s face looked strained, and his lips parted as he took a breath and sighed. “I really am… er… Relieved. To see you well.”

Well… that was new. Ignis was never this flustered. Ever. “It’s good to see you, too,” Prompto said. “I mean. You’re looking well.”

Ignis gave him a small smile. “I think Altissia agrees with you.” 

Prompto’s smile this time was more genuine. “It’s been good to me, I can’t lie.”

“I’m glad,” Ignis murmured. He looked sad, and Prompto didn’t like that one bit. “Have you… Do you… Have you made friends there?” Ignis’s hesitance was painful -- and it seemed to Prompto that he was pressing for something he didn’t want to ask directly. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean… my boss, Vyv? He’s pretty cool. And there’s Dino… he’s a journalist. I’ve taken some photos for his articles. And there’s Aranea, who runs the bookshop that’s right…. There.” He pointed it out on one of the photos. 

“Delightful,” Ignis said. 

“Yeah,” Prompto chuckled. “When I first saw it, it was just so cool! I took so many pictures, you know? And next thing I know, she’s barging out yelling at me to scram.”

“No,” Ignis said.

“Yeah, she thought I was casing the joint; she tried to run me off, but I pulled up my portfolio on my phone to prove I was legit.” 

Then they were laughing together, and the frisson of that moment sent a shiver up Prompto’s arms. 

He longed for this. He did. 

He met Ignis’s eyes by accident -- and the intense green of Ignis’s good eye in the gallery’s lighting caught him off guard.

“How long will you be in town?” Ignis asked. 

Prompto convinced himself that it was a completely innocent question. “A week,” he said.

“And you are staying with Noctis?” 

“Yeah,” Prompto said, and a flicker of something flashed across Ignis’s face before he could hide it. “I mean, he offered, and… it was cheaper than a hotel, you know? Besides, he’s got a pretty sweet apartment.” 

“No doubt,” Ignis murmured.

Prompto rolled the champagne flute’s stem between his fingers, spinning it nervously. “Would you… um.” He stopped himself. He didn’t want to set himself up for more disappointment, especially when he’d made so much progress… but he was better now. He could handle it, he thought. He’d worked hard with his therapist. If Ignis wasn’t interested, it would... it would just.

What did he have to lose, anyway? 

“D’you think… Would you like to go get dinner sometime while I’m here?” 

Ignis stiffened -- so sharp and suddenly that Prompto could see it. He risked a glance at Ignis’s face, but his expression was completely blank and unreadable. He didn’t answer.

Prompto’s heart sank. “Look,” he said. “I, ah. I know I kind of ruined things for us. I just… hope I didn’t ruin things for good. I mean--” and he sighed. “I just want to make things right.”

Ignis gave him another small smile then. “How could you ruin things when I ruined things for myself? Prompto -- I should never have put you in such a position.” 

“No,” Prompto said in surprise. “Why would-- I mean, I’m the one who--”

“I was completely insensitive to your needs,” Ignis said. “I only saw my chance to get back something I thought my life was missing. I didn’t even think about what you might want. Or need. And I’m sorry.”

Prompto knew he was blushing. He shuffled his feet. “You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured. “I mean… you already did, and. And I accept.”

The set of Ignis’s shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled, a relieved sound. “Thank you,” he said. 

“So… do you think…” Prompto couldn’t quite say what he wanted. He wasn’t sure how, and was afraid that slim hope might disappear if he grasped it too hard -- or put it into words. “Do you think we can start over?”

Ignis sighed -- differently this time; heavier. “We can’t pretend nothing happened, alas… My whole family was witness.” 

Prompto chuckled nervously. “You got that right,” he said.

“But perhaps…” Ignis stepped closer, and now Prompto caught a floral scent that could have been Ignis’s boutonniere or cologne. “Perhaps we can start anew,” Ignis said gently.

“From square one?” Prompto said. “Maybe we can be friends after all?” 

Ignis laughed. “Quite,” he said. Then he tapped his chin. “I think dinner this week sounds… delightful.”

Prompto’s heart soared. “R… _ really?” _ he gasped. “I mean… yeah! That’s great! It’s on me this time, ‘kay? My treat.” 

“Excellent,” Ignis said. “I’ll have to check my calendar. How about I text you my availability in the morning?” 

Prompto groaned. “You gotta be so formal?” 

Ignis smiled gently. “Of course. It’s always better to start that way, and we’re just beginning, after all.”

And Prompto knew… formality was Ignis’s shield. In time, in private, it would fall away. Maybe.

And maybe he’d be able to watch it happen.

* * *

He and Ignis walked the gallery together for a while, discussing the art and the floral arrangements (it was fascinating to Prompto to see how Ignis had managed to complement the art in each room to a T). It wasn’t exactly relaxed or natural; in fact, Prompto felt more stiff and nervous than before, because before… 

_ Before _he just wasn’t expecting to ever see Ignis again. He’d finally accepted it. Now… Well. Now, maybe they had a chance to be friends again. Maybe. 

Noctis eventually found them again. He had a little plate of cake this time, and had brought some for Prompto and Ignis, too. 

“You guys catching up?” he said, and there was no pressure or teasing innuendo in his tone at all, so Prompto smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ignis was just telling me how he decided what to use for the flowers.” 

“Oh?” Noctis raised an eyebrow at Ignis.

Ignis smiled, and launched into an explanation of color theory and design and shape that Prompto mostly tuned out because he was just watching Ignis’s face. He looked… relaxed. More than he had since… since before. Noct’s posturing hadn’t turned him off; and Noctis being his natural, relaxed, friendly self was much less threatening, which pleased Prompto more than he could say.

They spent a pleasant evening, the three of them, wandering the gallery, enjoying the live music, eating more than they probably should have. Prompto stayed away from the drinks after the second flute of champagne, though Noctis and Ignis both indulged a little more, but none of them were flat-out drunk, and the slight buzz Prompto had made everything hazy and pleasant.

When the gala came to its natural end, Prompto and Noctis bid good night to Ignis, who had to stay and dismantle the floral displays. He turned down Prompto’s tentative offer to help. 

“You’re one of the celebrated guests,” Ignis said. “It wouldn’t do for you to be cleaning up afterwards. Besides, Iris will be here soon to help.” 

Noctis tugged Prompto away finally, and they stood outside the venue. Prompto stared up at the stars while Noctis texted his driver to come pick them up. 

After sending his text, Noctis slipped his hands into his pockets. “So,” he ventured. “You guys gonna…?”

“We gonna wha...?” Prompto said, and glanced at Noctis just in time to see his eyebrow waggle. “What? NO!”

Noct’s smile looked skeptical. 

“Seriously, dude,” Promtpo said, and shoved Noct’s shoulder. “I’ll just be glad that he’s still interested in being friends with me.” 

Noctis pursed his lips, then said, “Don’t quote me on this, but I think he’s still interested in being more than friends. Just give him half a chance. You’ll see.” 

Warmth tingled under Prompto’s skin and he shivered and blamed it on the alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about y'all, but who's ready for fluff?


	16. Beginning Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto and Ignis plan a dinner together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIIIIIIVE! And I'm still plugging away at this story XD
> 
> Hope you're all staying safe!

Prompto woke slowly the next morning. He hadn’t had enough alcohol to  _ really _ feel it, but he still blinked blearily at the light filtering through the blinds for a long time before he remembered where he was. He fumbled for his phone and held it close to his face, squinting so he could see the display. He was later than usual. He miiiiight be early enough to get a jog in before Noctis woke, but it would be close. 

Prompto pushed himself out of bed. He staggered into the guestroom’s ensuite to refresh himself and put in his contacts, and when he came out -- only slightly more alert than when he went in -- his phone chimed. He couldn’t imagine who would be texting this early until he fumbled for his phone and saw Ignis’s name on the notification. 

Then the whole of the previous evening flooded back into his memory. 

Ignis had been there.

Ignis wanted to start again.

From the beginning.

Prompto’s stomach was suddenly full of butterflies. He thumbed his phone open.

**Ignis [8:24am]:** Would you be available for dinner tonight? You could come by my place around six this evening.

The butterflies in Prompto’s belly were racing. Why were the butterflies racing? It was just Ignis. He  _ knew  _ Ignis. He’d seen Ignis at his absolutely most casual. 

You couldn’t get any  _ more _ casual, honestly, than Prompto had seen. Most people would only ever see the perfectly-tailored, perfectly-groomed Ignis. Prompto, on the other hand, had seen Ignis in the morning, in his PJs with his hair down and feathered over his forehead before he’d even showered. 

He’d seen more of Ignis than  _ that, _ even.

But Prompto wasn’t going to think about Ignis at his most casual, no way. It wasn’t his place to think about Ignis that way anymore, and he couldn’t assume that would ever happen again. They were starting  _ at the beginning. _ Maybe that’s where the butterflies came from. He kinda knew what he’d be missing out on if it didn’t end up working out this time.

But he had to give Ignis an answer. 

He typed several versions and erased them before he settled on one. He still winced at it before he finally gave in and hit send… but Ignis knew what he was like. 

**Prompto [8:29am]:** sounds great! 👍 Where u wanna go?

Prompto  _ almost _ flopped back down in bed to wait for Ignis’s reply, but then he heard a door open somewhere in the apartment and knew that Noctis (the usually-late-riser) was up. If Noctis was up, then he really should get moving, too.

He shed his pjs and pulled on a tank top and jeans, and headed out into the main living room. Noctis was puttering about in the kitchen, and had pulled out a coffee machine -- the one-serving kind that used the little instant cups. 

“What flavor d’you want?” Noctis asked, rifling through a little box. “Looks like there’s an Ebony dark roast, some hazelnut flavor, this… vanilla thing? I guess?” 

“Vanilla sounds good,” Prompto said, and plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs and lay his head in his hands. Soon enough, Noctis set a steaming cup by his face, and then sat across the table with his own cup. At the rich vanilla scent, Prompto pushed himself upright. 

He took a sip just as his phone chimed again. 

Noctis smirked over his mug. “Already?” 

“Wha-aat?” Prompto said. 

Noctis gestured at Prompto’s phone. “That’s your guy, right? Ignis?”

Prompto glanced at his phone and shot Noctis a Look that was supposed to be stern, but from how Noct’s eyes crinkled, probably hit short of the mark. “So what if it is?” he said, his voice pitched high.

“Nothing,” Noctis said, but he sounded pleased.

Prompto checked his phone.

**Ignis [8:44am]: ** I was thinking there’s a pleasant little place in the Capitol district that has a reputation for the best Galahdian food outside of the archipelago; it’s called Sugar and Spice.

Prompto’s heart dropped. He had  _ heard  _ of that place, but he’d never been there, because of the $$$ by its name in the directory. But he didn’t want to admit to Ignis that he couldn’t afford that. If that’s what Ignis wanted, he guessed he could bite the bullet. He was silent just long enough for Ignis to chime in again.

**Ignis [8:48am]: ** My treat

Prompto’s heart did a little anxious jump.

**Prompto [8:49am]:** but I said it was gonna be MY treat :(

**Ignis [8:51pm]: ** You did… but I’d like to satisfy my craving, and couldn’t possibly ask you to cover it; they’re rather pricey.  
**Ignis [8:51pm]: ** I insist

That made Prompto squirm a little, but it was a pleasant feeling this time. When he looked up again, Noctis was smiling at him. 

“Good news?” he said. 

“Yeah.” Prompto felt a crooked smile grow on his face. “I’m gonna have dinner with Ignis.”

“So you’ve got a date.” 

Noct made his stupid eyebrow waggle again and Prompto blushed. “It’s  _ not _ a date,” he squawked.

“Uh huh,” Noctis said, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Prompto punched him in the shoulder, but there was no strength behind it, and he couldn’t help smiling.

* * *

Noctis saved his butt again, in the clothing department. 

Prompto had only bothered to pack tank tops and jeans and his one formal suit for the gala. He hadn’t expected to be going on any dates for this trip; he’d packed for lounging around Noct’s house playing video games and eating pizza. A date didn’t need a formal suit, and tanks and jeans just wouldn’t cut it. Not for Ignis. 

Noctis fitted him up with a navy button-up and some tan slacks that fit well enough, and he was on his way with plenty of time to spare. He had to will himself not to run -- it wouldn’t do any good to get there all sweaty and gross; not for a date. His heart fluttered when he rounded the  corner and saw Scientia Floral, completely unchanged and as beautiful as ever in the evening light. 

He skipped around to the back of the building to the back door -- the one that he knew well; the one that opened onto the stairs up to Ignis’s apartment. He had his hand on the doorknob, ready to open it and bound up the stairs, when his phone chimed. 

When Prompto saw the message, he froze.

**Ignis [5:42pm]: ** You may want to delay; I had sudden company but they’re just leaving

Prompto’s heart did a weird fluttery thing. Not in a good way. 

Then the doorknob turned under his hand. He leapt backwards, but he wasn’t fast enough to get out of sight.

There in the open door stood Lillian, Ignis’s sister, holding a baby Prompto hadn’t met yet. The baby blinked owlishly at him, and Lillian’s mouth dropped open with surprise as soon as she saw him. She quickly recovered. “Oh, Prompto!” she said. “It’s… good to see you.”

There were acres of questions in that statement and Prompto heard them all. He could only muster a half-hearted smile. “Hi, Lillian,” he managed. 

Then Ignis appeared at Lillian’s shoulder. He wasn’t quite put together; he had his shirt sleeves rolled up still, his hands were bare of gloves, and his unstyled hair feathered down over his forehead in that natural way that was totally unfair. “Thanks for stopping by,” Ignis said. “Apologies for running out so quickly.”

And she cocked an eyebrow over her shoulder at him, a look that promised an interrogation in the future. Prompto groaned inwardly. He hadn’t meant to make things awkward between Ignis and his family; that was his last intention for this whole… whatever this was. “It’s all right,” she said. “I’m sorry I dropped by when you had plans! We’ll be in town for another day. Can I come by tomorrow afternoon?” 

“Of course,” Ignis said, and they exchanged a hug, and then Lillian left with a quick backward glance at Prompto.

When she was gone around the corner of the building, Prompto sighed. “Sorry,” he said. “I was early and didn’t get your message until--”

“It’s all right,” Ignis said. 

“I mean, I bet she’s really gonna wonder about--”

“Prompto. It’s all right.” He sighed. “I need to finish getting ready. Would you mind waiting just a little longer…?”

Prompto nodded. “I’ll just… hang here until you’re ready,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, and closed the door again.

Prompto listened to Ignis’s footsteps go up the stairs inside the door, and sighed again. He wilted against the wall and pondered how long it would take for Ignis to decide that this wasn’t worth it after all and come down to send him away. He wanted to melt into the wall and disappear. 

Prompto stewed there until the door opened again, and Ignis emerged, immaculate and breathtaking as usual, with his hair in that soft pompadour again, and why did Prompto feel so miserable about that? Oh yeah… because it wasn’t gonna happen. Not again; it would never be the same.

“Look, ah, Ignis,” he said. “I didn’t mean to create problems--”

“You haven’t created problems,” Ignis said, but his voice sounded tired. 

“If you… I mean, I’m just -- not sure this is such a great--”

“Prompto.”

Prompto twitched and swallowed what he’d been about to say. “... Yes?”

Ignis gave him a tight smile. “Let’s go have some dinner, shall we?” 

“... Okay.” 

Prompto followed Ignis to his car, and blinked when Ignis opened the passenger door for him. He glanced up to find Ignis peering at him with a sort of soft melancholy that he didn’t expect. Prompto laughed shakily.

“You okay, Iggy?” he said. 

Ignis’s eyes widened, and his brows shot up almost to his hairline. 

Then Prompto realized: he’d used a nickname. He’d never used a nickname for Ignis before. In fact, he’d only ever heard  _ Iris _ call him ‘Iggy’. He put his hand over his mouth and groaned. “Sorry,” he said. “I--” 

“No, that’s quite all right,” Ignis said. “It’s just… That’s what Gladio used to call me, and it took me a little by surprise.” 

Oh. Oh no. “Sorry,” Prompto repeated, and sagged, blinking at the ground and dropping his hand to his side.

“No, no… it’s quite alright,” Ignis insisted. “It was… actually nice to hear it again.” 

The knot of worry in Prompto’s belly loosened slightly. “Oh,” he said. 

They drove to the restaurant, and it was just as fancy as its price point suggested. Even though Ignis insisted that he pick what he wanted without looking at the price, Prompto still settled for the least-expensive entree he could find on the menu -- which worked out all right, because it was an incredibly tasty curry soup. 

“You truly could have ordered whatever you wanted,” Ignis said, once their food arrived.

“And I  _ did,” _ Prompto said. “It’s glorious! Wanna bite?” 

Ignis dipped his own spoon in Prompto’s soup to try a taste. He gasped -- probably when the spice hit his throat. 

“Good, huh?” Prompto said.

“Well,” Ignis said, “The restaurant certainly earned its name, didn’t it?” His voice was a little hoarse, and he coughed.

Prompto laughed, and for the first time that evening, it felt natural and free.

They were mostly silent as they ate, only sharing the occasional comments on the food (Ignis was as pleased with his spicy skewers as Prompto was with his curry) but as their eating slowed, and as they placed an order for dessert, Prompto began to fret. Because soon they’d actually have to talk about something more than the nothings they’d been spouting at each other so far. 

He didn’t wait long. 

“So,” Ignis said at last, “tell me about your family.”

Prompto short-circuited. “....What?” he said. 

“I did mean it when I said start at the beginning,” Ignis said. “We rather seem to have jumped into bed together before we could really get to know each other, and… I don’t think you ever actually talked about your family. When I invited you to my family’s Harvest Feast, you didn’t even tell me anything about your own family’s celebration or traditions.”

Prompto twitched nervously in his seat. His butterflies were back. He tried to remember everything he’d actually  _ told _ Ignis about his family… and… it couldn’t have been much.

“I went on and on about mine,” Ignis continued, “and I’m afraid I didn’t let you say anything about your own. I don’t even know whether or not you have any siblings. I apologize if I was long-winded about it.”

“No!” Prompto retorted. “No, not at all -- I mean, I would have said more, if there was much to say at all. Which… there really isn’t.”

“There isn’t?” 

Prompto almost laughed at the skeptical look Ignis leveled at him. “Really, there isn’t,” he said. “I mean… I don’t have any siblings.”

“I had guessed that,” Ignis said. “But mostly from your not speaking about them at all.” 

“And I’m adopted, but I think I told you that.”

Ignis nodded. “And I’ve never actually  _ met _ your parents,” he said.

“Um. Well, about that…” Prompto rubbed the back of his head. “You know the day you saw me? Y’know, crying in the window?” 

Ignis made a lopsided smile. “I couldn’t forget if I tried,” he said.

“Yeah, well. One of the reasons that was such an awful day was because I’d just found out they died.”

Ignis’s mouth fell open. He was stunned enough that he didn’t speak for several heartbeats. And when he did…  _ “What?” _

“Heh heh,” Prompto laughed nervously. “Surprise?” 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

“It… never came up?” Prompto sighed. “I spent a lot of time avoiding details like that, because… I just didn’t think we’d last.” He waved his hand between the two of them. “I mean, you were so… amazing. And had this amazing family and amazing life, and I was just. Me.” 

“Prompto…” Ignis whispered. 

Prompto slumped in his chair. “I’m sorry I never really talked about myself,” he said. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ignis leaned forward over his tiramisu, his good eye piercing and bright. “You can start,” he said, “by telling me all about it. From the top.”

And so Prompto did. He started with the awful day (which he’d never really explained to Ignis; Ignis was properly horrified), and then he talked about his childhood -- when his parents were more  _ there,  _ really -- and went on from there. As he talked the tension drained from him. He wasn't worrying anymore about what Ignis thought. It didn't matter, really, because they'd already been broken up for months, and there wasn't a relationship that would be ruined by Ignis knowing that Prompto was a complete mess and had such a mediocre life. Ignis probed gently with questions that didn't feel intrusive, and listened as Prompto laid everything out until there was nothing more to say, really.

When he reached the end, Prompto heaved a sigh. "And that's it, I guess."

“Let's not belittle your life by saying ‘that's it,’” Ignis said. “You've been through so much, and I think you've done quite well for yourself.”

Prompto shrugged. “Well, at the very least, I’ve got a fancy condo in Altissia and the beginnings of a photography career, so I guess that’s all right.”

“All right? I’d say so.”

Prompto smiled, and Ignis smiled back, and it softened his face in that way Prompto loved so much, making him less stoic-looking; more approachable. Prompto’s heart ached. He didn’t know what he wanted, but being back in Ignis’s company again was… something he’d longed for, actually. Something he’d miss when he didn’t have it again.

“Thanks for dinner,” Prompto said. 

“It was my pleasure,” Ignis said. 

They both settled back in their chairs, scraping the last of their desserts from their plates. After a nervous silence, Prompto asked, “Think your sister’s gonna ask questions?” 

“It’s Lillian,” Ignis replied with a snort. “Of course she’ll ask questions.”

Prompto ducked his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Ignis said. “I can handle Lillian. I know she only asks out of concern for me -- and in truth, there’s nothing to be concerned about.” 

Prompto peeked up at Ignis through his bangs. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Ignis looked for a moment like he was going to say something more, but instead, he picked up the bill and they headed out.

Ignis dropped Prompto off at Noct’s apartment. Their good-bye was all very hands-off and proper, even though Ignis walked him to the building’s door. Prompto thanked him again, and Ignis left with a smile that Prompto might almost have said was wistful. 

Wistful was okay. Prompto could deal with wistful. 

“So?” 

Prompto yelped and almost jumped out of his skin. When he recovered, he smacked Noctis on the shoulder, and hissed, “Don’t sneak up on me like that!” 

Noctis smiled at him. “Couldn’t help it,” he said. “You were a little preoccupied. How’d it go?”

“It was just dinner,” Prompto said, and turned away to the front door. He didn’t want Noct’s hounding, but since he was staying in Noct’s apartment, he wasn’t likely to escape it. He just had to get through it. 

“Dinner’s good, though, right?” Noctis said, as he keyed the door open and held it for Prompto to follow. 

“Well, yeah,” Prompto said, and followed Noctis up the stairs. After a few steps, he slowed. He had five more days.  _ Five days, _ and in those five days, he had pretty much nothing scheduled, except hanging out with Noct. Five days, and he could still see Ignis some of those days. He realized that he really wanted to.

Tomorrow was Sunday; the flower shop would be closed. Prompto took a gamble. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick “wanna get coffee tomorrow around 10? Cafe across the street from your store?” He wasn’t expecting a quick answer, so he was a little surprised when his phone pinged almost right away.

**Ignis [9:10pm]: ** It would be my pleasure.

“You okay?” Noctis called. 

Prompto looked up; Noctis had disappeared up the next flight of stairs. He picked up his pace to catch up. “Yeah, I’m coming!” he said. He couldn’t help the grin on his face -- and when Noctis teased him about it, he couldn’t even be angry. He’d be seeing Ignis again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis's sister WAS named Serena but it occurred to me that Nyx's sister was also Serena... so in an effort to avoid confusion, I changed Ignis's sister to Lillian in this chapter (And did a global find-replace in the rest of the fic, so...)


	17. Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's food, and time spent together, and a lot of necessary talking... and more!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shameless fluff and I'm completely not sorry.

The next morning Prompto was up WAAAAY before Noctis would even be stirring in his bed. He grabbed Noct’s spare key and went out for his morning run with the sky just beginning to brighten in the east, and when he let himself back in, he hummed to himself as he showered and got himself ready for the day. He raided Noct’s well-stocked kitchen for a breakfast of cold sugar-bomb cereal (honestly, he didn’t expect to see Noctis until after he was back from coffee with Ignis) and scrolled his social media feeds for a while in undisturbed silence, but by 9:15 he was out the door.

The morning was gorgeous; the air still crisp and cool (with promises of a hot afternoon), and Prompto dashed along with a skip in his step and a whistle on his lips. He couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d felt so good. He kind of expected his usual mind gremlins to show up to tell him the feeling wouldn’t last, but that didn’t happen. He arrived at the cafe, a little early, and still mind-gremlin-less.

It felt great!

The morning sun was working its usual magic on the front of Scientia Floral and Prompto couldn’t help snapping a few pics with his phone -- and he was still doing it when a smooth, familiar voice at his elbow said, “Good morning, Prompto.”

Prompto nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ignis -- where did you COME From?” he yelped. 

Ignis had the audacity to chuckle. “I came from across the street. You seemed a bit occupied, so you may have missed it.”

“Yeah,” Prompto said with a chuckle. 

“May I see?” Ignis said, extending a hand.

Prompto handed his phone over so Ignis could scroll through the photos. The familiarity of the gesture stirred something in his belly. 

“These are lovely,” Ignis murmured. “Not that I expected anything less.” He smiled and handed Prompto’s phone back.

Prompto’s cheeks burned, but he smiled. “Thanks,” he said, and led the way inside. 

Coffee with Ignis was just… nice. No expectations. Prompto wasn’t even nervous. The conversation flowed naturally, Ignis seemed relaxed and even laughed without reservation, something Prompto had rarely seen even when they were together. He expected to part ways when their conversation lulled, but it never did. They were nowhere close to done when his phone pinged.

**Noctis** [11:43am]: hey   
**Noctis ** [11:43am]: you aren’t still having coffee with your guy are you

“Is that your friend?” Ignis asked, and Prompto looked up from his phone and smiled.

“Yeah, it’s Noct,” he said. “Stars, I didn’t realize what time it was.” He didn’t want this to end. “You… want to get some lunch?” 

Ignis smiled. “Alas,” he said with true regret, “Lillian is making good on her threat to visit when I don’t have plans. She has already offered to take me to lunch.”

Prompto deflated. “Oh,” he said, and he guessed he wasn't quite subtle enough to hide his disappointment. 

“It’s all right,” Ignis said. “You are still here for how many days?”

“Four.”

“I’m sure we can arrange more visits in that time.” Ignis straightened, then leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him on the table. “This has been a lovely morning,” he said. “I enjoyed chatting with you very much.”

Prompto glanced up and met Ignis’s eyes -- one a brilliant emerald pool and the other milky-white, but both intense under glasses and the casual fringe of his loose bangs. Prompto’s insides melted into a soft, gooey puddle. He tried to hold his smile steady. “Yeah, me too,” he managed.

They parted ways shortly after that, and Prompto practically floated back to Noct’s place. His thoughts were as high as the fluffy clouds that were starting to form -- and even the prospect of afternoon thundershowers wasn’t enough to dampen them. He got back to Noct’s apartment in a mood so bright that Noct’s teasing couldn’t phase him. 

It was later, as they made sandwiches and settled in for an afternoon of gaming in front of Noct’s giant TV, that Prompto came down from his emotional high. Ignis was meeting with Lillian. Lillian, who probably  _ hated _ Prompto for dumping her brother and making him sad. What if she tried to talk him out of seeing Prompto again? If someone had made Prompto’s brother sad, he’d probably do exactly that. If he’d had a brother.

This whole situation was shaky, anyway. Ignis’s “start from the beginning” didn’t necessarily mean they’d reach the same end they were headed to before. And the moment Prompto realized that, he nearly panicked. 

He really  _ wanted _ what they’d had before. But was it even  _ possible _ now?

Noctis probably picked up on his feelings, because he gave him a side-eye and paused the game. “Snack time,” he said.

Confused, Prompto lowered his controller. “But… we just finished the sandwiches…?” 

“You think that’s gonna hold us until dinner?” Noctis grabbed Prompto’s hand and tugged him up. “Let’s pull out the snacks now, and then we won’t have to stop later to get them.”

So Prompto started helping, and stopped spiral-worrying about possibilities and the future and Ignis.

He’d just about succeeded in putting it out of his mind when Prompto’s phone pinged.

**Ignis** [2:29pm]: Could you come let me in?    
**Ignis** [2:29pm]: Security won’t let me pass and in any case I don’t know which apartment number is your friend’s

Prompto felt his breath catch.

“Something wrong?”

Prompto glanced at Noctis and met his stormy eyes, shrouded with concern.

“It’s Ignis,” Prompto said. “I think he’s--”

*ping*

**Ignis ** [2:30pm]: Please, I’d like to speak with you

Prompto swallowed. “He’s  _ here.” _

Prompto thundered down the stairs with Noctis close on his heels, and when they pushed open the door, Ignis was there. Was there, pacing back and forth furiously along the sidewalk in front of the building, a flower in his hands. He was twirling it by the stem. Prompto had never seen him in this kind of a state.

“Ignis?” Prompto said.

The man whirled around as soon as Prompto said his name. His face was drawn, his eyebrows pinched together, and Prompto almost couldn’t breathe, pinned under his anxious intensity. Prompto’s heart leapt into his throat.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “I’ll be inside,” Noctis said. “Ping me when you need to come back in.” And he was gone.

“Ignis, what happened?” Prompto said. “Is there… is something wrong with Lillian?” 

“No!” Ignis gasped. “Oh, no, not at all. I…” He took a deep breath. “Prompto, would you… walk with me?” 

Prompto hesitated, then nodded his head. The motion felt jerky and awkward, his anxiety bleeding into it. 

Ignis gestured to the sidewalk, and Prompto fell into step beside him, his heart hammering in his chest. Whatever Ignis needed to talk about seemed too serious for a simple social call, but if he wanted to start with walking, Prompto would do it. It wasn’t  _ too _ hot for walking; and the clouds that had been small and puffy before were starting to get bigger, throwing shade now and then. 

They walked nearly a block in silence, Prompto on pins and needles the whole time -- but Ignis seemed to need the time to get whatever thoughts sorted in his head. Ignis idly twirled the stem of the rose in his hand -- it  _ was _ a rose, in the deepest satin burgundy Prompto had ever seen. Ignis was staring at it as he walked. Ignis’s forehead didn’t lose that anxious crease, though, and Prompto felt like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop now.

Other shoe of  _ what _ he had no idea.

Prompto couldn’t stand it finally and cleared his throat. “How was lunch with Lillian?” he asked.

Ignis physically jolted, like he’d forgotten Prompto was even there. “Oh, Lillian’s fine,” he said, like he hadn’t really heard Prompto’s question. “It was… enlightening.” 

_ Enlightening  _ didn’t sound  _ good. _

“Lillian said something that made me think.”

Lillian probably had  _ plenty _ to say about Prompto. Fear bubbled up but he diffused it by joking, “Uh-oh, better not be  _ thinking, _ that’s dangerous…” 

He was rewarded when Ignis chuckled. “Indeed,” he said.

That didn’t make Prompto feel much better.

Ignis took a deep breath. “Lillian cares for me, you understand,” he said. “She just wants to see me happy. And after… after you left… I was… Well. You brought so much light into my life, and when you left, you took it with you.”

Prompto blanched. He remembered Lillian saying something like that, right before… right before it all fell apart. At the Harvest Feast, in her kitchen, a spiked punch in his hand, she’d told him that he was a light for Ignis. “She must be really mad at me,” he said.

“On the contrary,” Ignis said. “She understands. I think. I explained to her how it was my fault. And she agrees that I moved too fast and was too eager.” 

Prompto fidgeted uncomfortably. He didn’t think the whole thing was so cut and dry. “I had plenty of issues to blame, too,” he said. “It wasn’t just you.” 

Ignis made a soft noise. “Look, Prompto… those few weeks we were together, I was happier than I’d been since… Since Gladio’s death.” 

Silence fell between them and Prompto couldn’t bring himself to break it. He just walked at Ignis’s side and waited for him to speak.

At last, Ignis took a deep breath. “When I ruined it--”

Prompto couldn’t let that go. “You didn’t, Ignis, I--!”

“No, let me take blame where it is deserved.” Ignis sighed. “When it ended, I accepted that we were through -- that you would want nothing else to do with me. I accepted it. Those months without you, after you left for Altissia… I threw myself back into my work, but I felt so empty. But you know… I had to let go. I knew that it was possible I’d never see you again, and I couldn’t let that rule my happiness. It was difficult, but I was turning myself around. I was doing better. 

“Then I saw you again.” 

When Ignis stopped in his tracks, Prompto stopped too and looked at him. Ignis searched his face, his lips parted, his expression serious -- almost anxious, but Prompto knew Ignis didn’t GET anxious. 

“At lunch today, Lillian asked me...” Ignis took a deep breath. “She asked me if I was just going to let you leave again, or… Or if I was going to convince you to stay.”

Prompto felt like something had knocked the breath straight out of him. He hadn’t expected this at all. 

“I don’t want to lose you again,” Ignis whispered, so softly Prompto almost didn’t hear.

He’d thought Ignis was ready to be “just friends”, but this… That he still had feelings… Prompto’s heart almost rose up to strangle him, and the butterflies from yesterday galloped in his chest.

Ignis clutched the poor rose to his chest. “I feel like I spoiled everything, and I’m so sorry, Prompto -- and now that we’re talking again, I.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to lose you again. But I don’t want to scare you away -- I don’t want to be too forward. I… don’t want to pressure you into anything you don’t want.” 

Hope welled up, bright and fragile in Prompto’s chest. He took a deep breath to calm his butterflies, and then reached for Ignis’s empty hand. He threaded their fingers together. Then, lifting their entwined hands, he looked up and met Ignis’s eyes. “I want  _ this,” _ he said.

The smile that crested on Ignis’s face then was brittle, and wavered, and then Prompto saw that Ignis’s eyes were wet -- almost swimming. Ignis held out the rose to him then. “This is for you,” he said, and Prompto pretended not to hear the quiver in his voice.

Prompto didn’t need Noct’s floriography book to know what a red rose meant. He took it gently, and then shoved his nose in it and breathed in its perfume. “It’s beautiful,” he said.

“Only the best for you,” Ignis said, and raised Prompto’s hand to place a soft kiss on his knuckles.

* * *

They walked for a while, then, fingers still intertwined. 

They had a lot to talk about, after all. 

Prompto was still going back to Altissia in four days. He still had a job, and friends, and stuff to do -- and he couldn’t just abandon his life there. Ignis had the shop, and Iris, and his family, and couldn’t leave the life he’d built in Insomnia. 

But Prompto wasn’t worried.

Ignis loved him.  _ Really  _ loved him, and something stupid like distance had no chance of ruining that. Nah, Prompto’s dumb ass had more chance of ruining things. And he was pretty determined not to let  _ that  _ happen. Not this time.

So their talk went to their goals. Ignis’s, naturally, was his shop and his garden. He’d built his dream home with Gladio -- and though Gladio wasn’t there to help him fill it, he wasn’t about to give it up.

And Prompto didn’t want him to. 

Prompto’s goals weren’t so cut-and-dry. His work could take him anywhere, really. There were places all over Eos that needed photographing, and any town of reasonable size had a gallery or two. He could get in at more than one gallery in more than one town; he didn’t have to live there. 

“I could work anywhere, really,” he said finally. “I… You know, if I’m honest… I kinda wanna travel. Doesn’t matter where I live.” 

“Well,” Ignis said, “I would go with you as often as possible, but I can’t be away from the shop for long. But even when I can’t go with you… you would always have a place to come home to.” He glanced Prompto’s way, his eyes brimming with soft joy.

Prompto’s heart echoed it, at the thought of sharing Ignis’s space again. His memories of the apartment and garden above the flower shop were all warm and precious.

But that left one problem.

“I… guess I’d better get rid of the condo,” Prompto said.

“Oh, I don’t think you need to get rid of it,” Ignis said. “My uncle has some experience in handling investment properties. We could rent it out for much of the year, and the rental revenue will nicely bolster our combined income. Besides,” And he smiled mischievously. “I rather think a two-week vacation to Altissia now and then with a special someone will be far easier to manage if we already have a place to stay.” He leaned in and pressed his lips against Prompto’s forehead.

The thought of visiting Altissia with Ignis, showing him all the places he’d thought Ignis would like, and staying together in the condo with the magnificent view and the coffee shop underneath got Prompto all tingly.

* * *

The threatening sky finally opened on them, and it started pouring, with lightning and loud crashes of thunder, and they had to run for it. By the time they got back to Noct’s apartment, still hand in hand, they were both drenched. Prompto texted him to let them in. Noctis opened the front door and gave them a disgusted look. 

“You guys are gross,” he said. Even though there was no heat in it, Prompto’s face burned, and Noctis laughed. “Come in and dry off. You guys up for ordering some pizza? Or were you thinking about having more one-on-one time?”

Prompto cocked his head in Ignis’s direction. 

“I don’t mean to butt in on your time together,” Ignis said. 

“Pfft,” Noctis said with a wave of his hand. “You’re not butting in. Not if I invite you.” and he smiled.

So Ignis joined them. Prompto changed into something dry, and Noctis offered Ignis some dry clothes, too -- a geeky King’s Knight T-shirt and some loose sweats that didn’t really fit Ignis’s tall, thin frame, but were at least clean and dry, even if they did show four inches of leg above Ignis’s ankles. Noctis ordered pizza, and they ate and laughed and put in a mindless action flick and Noctis sat on one side of his sofa while Prompto curled into Ignis’s side on the other, and they chowed down on popcorn and enjoyed explosions and action and talked about nothing. 

When the movie was over and they were all working to clear the dishes and take care of garbage, Noctis leaned in to Prompto and whispered, “You gonna go home with him tonight? I won’t be offended if you want to.” 

Prompto knew he was blushing to his hairline. He elbowed Noctis. “Too soon, dude!” he hissed. “I don’t wanna jinx anything!”

Noctis just smirked at him -- and then Ignis entered the kitchen with another handful and said, “I should probably retire. I do need to open the store in the morning.”

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Prompto offered. Ignis picked up his still-damp trousers and button-up, neatly folded, and Noctis waved them both off. 

Prompto revelled in their casual touches. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed the bumping shoulders, the occasional lean, Ignis planting a kiss now and then on his forehead. The gentle smiles, the meeting of eyes. They didn’t even have to say anything; they just enjoyed each other’s company in that brief time until they reached the front door.

Then Ignis pulled Prompto in for a hug. “Thank you for a beautiful day,” he said, and then pulled back. He paused a moment, and then smiled. “I don’t wish to rush anything, but… would you be comfortable spending just one night with me before you return to Altissia?”

Prompto smiled so wide he thought his face might crack. “A night with a gorgeous catch like you? Who wouldn’t want that?” He also knew he was blushing again, probably all blotchy and awful, and hoped Ignis wouldn’t take his offer back. 

Ignis smiled, and this time -- with some quirk of the eyebrow -- he made it into a burning smoulder that sent a hot rush from Prompto’s belly to the tips of his toes. Ignis placed his free hand on the small of Prompto’s back and pulled him forward, their bodies flush together. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your time,” Ignis murmured, and leaned in for a kiss.

His lips were soft and warm and searching, and Prompto eagerly reciprocated -- and before he knew it, he felt Ignis’s fingers threading through his hair because Ignis was cupping his head, and there was tongue, and someone (Ignis or Prompto; he couldn’t really be sure) made a small moan -- and they pulled apart breathlessly, and Ignis searched Prompto’s face, his eyes half-lidded. 

“I adore how your blushes highlight your freckles,” Ignis said softly. “Could I pick you up for dinner tomorrow? And after…?”

Prompto nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be ready,” he said.

And he was. 

He survived a full day of Noct’s good-natured eyebrow waggling. Then, just before six in the evening, he was on the sidewalk in front of the building, backpack slung over his shoulder with a change of clothes and toiletries. Ignis picked him up and drove to a nice little diner -- the kind that serves breakfast all day -- and they shared bites of a veggie-heavy omelette and eggs benedict.

Then Ignis took Prompto back to the apartment above the flower shop, where they’d spent those weeks wrapped up in each other. Prompto took in all the little changes: a chair here, a new picture on the wall there -- but most of it was the same. And it was still full of flowers; just about every flat surface in every room held a bouquet.

When Ignis invited him to bed, he was almost timid -- as though afraid Prompto would bolt again. Prompto was determined to never bolt again. He responded to Ignis’s invitation with gentleness; slowly drawing Ignis to him, and undoing the buttons on his shirt one at a time, then splayed a hand on Ignis’s bare chest, and cradled Ignis’s head with his other hand, drawing him into a kiss. 

They spent the evening slowly exploring each other as though everything was new, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

Prompto dreamed that night. 

It was kind of an ordinary dream, where he was counting chocobos as they wandered in and out of a pen. They were wearing hats of all kinds, but Prompto wasn't paying attention to those; he just buried his hands in the feathers of any bird that passed close enough. He had never seen a chocobo in real life, and he  _ loved _ his chocobo dreams and he vaguely hoped he would remember it when he woke up, maybe enough to tell Ignis…

“Hey,” said a low voice. 

Prompto turned and squinted into the sunlight. Someone was walking towards him, haloed by the distant sunset in light stronger than Prompto thought was purely natural. But whoever-it-was was so big -- his shoulders so broad -- that before too long he’d eclipsed the sunset altogether, and Prompto found himself looking up -- and up, and up -- into amber eyes in a scruffy face framed by a dark-brown mullet. The guy (was he familiar?) gave Prompto a lop-sided smile. 

"Hey, new kid," the guy said. 

"Who, me?" Prompto said, pointing at himself. 

"Who else?" The guy grinned, a broad flash of impeccable teeth. "Just came by to check things out. Iggy doin' okay?"

Iggy. Prompto had called Ignis that exactly once. It was Gladio's nickname for him. Prompto had a fuzzy memory of a photo -- of Ignis with a tall, dark-haired man. Was this…?

“Gladio?” Prompto asked.

“The one and only,” Gladio said, and reached out and ruffled Prompto’s hair. 

Prompto batted at Gladio’s hand and yelped “hey!” but there was no malice in any of it. 

“He’s a serious guy,” Gladio said, while he scritched the neck of a chocobo. “He gets pretty intense about the things he loves.” 

“Yeah, I think I noticed,” Prompto said, scuffing a toe at the ground. When he looked up again, Gladio was giving him a soft look. When he noticed Prompto looking, he smiled.

“You’ll do alright, kid,” he said cheerfully. “Take care of ‘im for me, or I’ll haunt your ass for the rest of your days.” Then Gladio slowly merged back into the light, and the last thing Prompto saw of him was his cheeky grin fading away.

* * *

Prompto blinked awake. He thought he’d been dreaming something, but the last tendrils of it faded even as he grasped for them.

He was nestled against Ignis’s chest, his head tucked under Ignis’s chin. He blinked a moment, and stirred, but as soon as he moved, Ignis’s arms tightened around him. Ignis made a soft noise of sleepy protest, but didn’t wake. Prompto managed to turn over and settled in with his back to Ignis’s chest, and Ignis curled around him, making a satisfied noise into his hair. He felt the puff of Ignis’s breath.

The morning sun was just starting to peek through the curtains, and a beam of it illuminated a vase filled with red and yellow tulips, where it sat on the chest of drawers under the window. Prompto studied the colors for a long while before his eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep again to the scent of roses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto does go back to Altissia, long enough to put in his two-week notice at the camera shop, tell all his new friends about his good fortune, and give the condo a really good cleaning. 
> 
> Ignis, meanwhile, notifies his uncle of this investment property belonging to a friend, and gives him Prompto’s contact information, and before Prompto can say “boo”, the condo’s all set up to be a rental property.
> 
> Meanwhile, a major gallery takes notice of Prompto’s photos at the Summer Salon and offers to represent him in Insomnia. So with representation in Insomnia AND Altissia (the Magpie’s Nest was desperate to keep their contract with him), he has the freedom to go where he likes -- and so he does! Three weeks after he returns to Altissia, he moves yet again -- back to the apartment above Scientia Floral with Ignis.
> 
> So Ignis keeps the shop, and Prompto makes a living off of gallery sales and the occasional commission from journalists. He takes lots of trips into Duscae and Cleigne and sometimes even further afield, sometimes for weeks. 
> 
> Ignis goes with him once in their first year together, for a week in Altissia, letting Iris tend the shop for him while he’s away. She does a marvelous job, and Prompto gets to show Ignis all his favorite haunts, and introduces him to all his friends there. And they thoroughly enjoy the condo’s amenities, including the bed, which Prompto had always thought was far too big for one person anyway. At the end of their trip, Ignis announces that they’re going to make this an annual trip, and that a week isn’t enough time there.
> 
> And Ignis has learned his lesson. After they’ve lived together for two years, he books a visit to a chocobo ranch, and he and Prompto go on a little ride together, just the two of them, where he takes Prompto to a little rise with a view of the Duscae wetlands, to propose.
> 
> (When Ignis calls his family with the news, there’s so much cheering that their neighbors call in a noise complaint, but no one cares.)
> 
> \------------------
> 
> Thanks for going on this weird journey with me! A number of the chapter titles are taken from track names from the soundtrack for Bed of Roses, which I listened to extensively while writing this.


End file.
